One to Light, One Alone
by Mekanikora
Summary: Weeks after the events of the Eclipse, the House of Gale begins to rebuild. Despite the atrocities caused by the Witch, the Queen resolutely names Azkadellia her heir, which leaves DG in the role of - Sorceress? When a nightmare draws the Crown Princess into a coma, DG and the others must take a new journey in order to cure her, not knowing what old - and new - enemies lie in wait.
1. Chapter 01 - The Slipper at Breakfast

_**Chapter 01: The Slipper at Breakfast**_

_The Majestic Queen of the O.Z. _

_Had two lovely daughters she_

_One to darkness she be drawn_

_One to light she be shown_

_Double eclipse it is foreseen_

_Light meets dark and the Stone is between_

_But only one and one alone_

_Will hold the Emerald and take the throne_

_Only one and one alone…_

A green glow saturated her vision, the words repeated over and over in the voice of a gnarled, ugly woman with eyes deeper and blacker than the cave in which they'd found her, over fifteen annuals ago.

"Only one and one alone," she chanted gleefully, reaching up to gather the green light to herself. "And the two of you never managed to take it at all! It was _mine!_" Her laughter pierced the soul, sharper than a mobat's screech, and the woman suffering beneath that cacophony cowered on the shining emerald stone, cold and unforgiving beneath her. The witch continued to laugh and laugh, louder and louder until the woman screamed in pain, feeling the blood run from her ears at the onslaught of sound. She pulled them away to stare at the blood, realized that the crimson liquid continued to flow down her hands, staining them beyond repair. The ghosts of dead men and women swirled around her head, yelling obscenities and taunting her for her weakness. For it had all been her fault, hadn't it?

Somewhere in the grand palaces of the Northern Island, the newly revived Princess Azkadellia awakened in an icy sweat, and howled her agony to the rising suns.

Never an early riser, it took several knocks on the door for DG to finally wake up completely, and she grumbled an answer to Glitch's hurried questions after her health. She resisted the urge to throw a pillow at the door, knowing that the action would be entirely lost because it wouldn't actually hit his head.

She sat up despite her fierce desire to curl back up in the piles of blankets — she wasn't used to the freezing cold temperatures as the rest of her family seemed to be. The light of the O.Z.'s twin suns gave little warmth as they sent streamers of light into the room, dancing off the crystal light fixtures and the metal trim of plush furniture. DG had protested the idea of living in such a space, far too used to the farmhouse attic where she kept all of her treasures close at hand, her drawings and dreams spread haphazardly on the walls around her as she lived her humdrum life.

No longer so, she found herself now Princess of a realm left behind long ago to save her life… a life lost to a sister possessed by a witch. A sister now saved, and preparing to step into the role of Queen. Which left DG where? "Court Sorceress" her father had called it, and the blasted irony of it made DG twitch. Not only did she feel that her fledgling powers remained less than formidable outside of some parlor tricks and cool little enchantments that did little more than what anyone with a bit of training could do, but "Sorceress?" The Long Coats still combed the land, and they wanted to stick her with a cursed title like _that_?

She rubbed her face with both hands, finally deciding it was far too early to think about serious matters. Besides, she didn't want Glitch — or even worse, Cain — coming by to check on her while she still sat in bed in her nightclothes and nowhere near ready for her busily scheduled day. She suppressed a groan, thinking of her "responsibilities." _Mom always said I had to learn to be organized. Now I have a whole set of servants organizing everything for me. God, this sucks._ But she rose from her cocoon of cozy and yanked open the drawer of an old wooden dresser, having to brace a foot against the base, as the cold had caused the wood to warp slightly. It finally gave, and she relentlessly sorted through various garments, deliberately avoiding the fancier stuff suggested by her mother in favor of more casual wear.

Switching out the heavily padded nightclothes for knee-high socks, jeans, a couple of layered shirts and her old leather jacket, DG stretched to warm herself further, gave her hair a quick run-through with a brush, and hurried down the hall to grab some breakfast. A glance at the clock told her that she'd be just on time if she picked up the pace just a tiny bit. The morning had begun at a much cooler temperature than usual, and the fog on the sea had condensed onto the marble, making it incredibly slick for princesses without the proper footwear. But a grin grew on her face as an idea struck, now tapping into the magic that was still so new to her. A golden glow grew around her feet, and then her wayward slide became a smoothly controlled one; DG gave a whoop with a childish grin as she passed several astonished servants in the halls. _I bet Toto never thought of this one!_

What DG didn't think about during this exultant dash, however, was how to _stop,_ and she squealed, flailing her arms as the very thick, _stone_ wall came closer at too high a speed for her to stop safely.

"YIKES!" she cried, bracing herself, and then the air left her lungs in a _whoosh_ as some unfortunate soul stepped into her way, pushing her out of her slide and safely into a corner. But who would—?

"Really, Doll. Where's your rhythm today?" Glitch chided playfully, placing a gently mocking finger on her nose. She blinked in confusion, then groaned as she saw Wyatt Cain fast approaching on Glitch's heels, his expression stormy at the sight of her nearly face-flattening collision.

Okay, it was safe to say that his expression was normally like that, but why did he always have to pop up when she had done something stupid? It was beyond embarrassing. And _Glitch_ had needed to bail her out of it, too! Darn it, everyone seemed to think that her bones had been made of glass — she'd made the mistake, so why not let her learn from it by letting her crash into the wall?

_Because a death glare from Mr. Wyatt Cain is a thousand times worse than hitting a stone wall at thirty miles per hour,_ she decided petulantly, and sighed heavily, patting her friend on the shoulder. "Thanks for the save, Glitch," she said aloud, and the advisor beamed broadly, then seemed to pause, look around, and focus on her again.

"Oh, hey DG. Thank you for what, now?"

"For stopping her from splitting her fool head open," Cain groused, eyeing her critically. "What in the world was that about?"

"Trying something I'd always wanted to do as a child," she answered primly, but broke the dignified air by sticking her tongue out at him defiantly. Cain rolled his eyes and hauled both of them upright, then pointing towards the open hall in front of them with distinct impatience.

"You mean you're not still one?"

"Look who's talking, old man Tin," she baited, "Surprised you haven't rusted out here in the chilly boonies. You're even tougher than we all thought."

Glitch cut in with a glint in his eye, speaking to DG conspiratorially, but loud enough for Cain to hear. "Actually, he didn't even rust after he fell three stories and into the ice. Maybe they should rename the order and call them Steel Men?"

"Or Supermen," DG snickered, "though I think that's some kind of copyright infringement. Or do you guys have that here?"

"If you two can manage to walk twenty feet without getting yourselves into trouble, then?" Cain grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and looking down his nose at them.

Nonplussed by his expression and not wanting his grumpiness to ruin her good mood, DG turned on her heel, hair tossed over one shoulder as she grasped Glitch's arm.

"Shall we, my loyal advisor?" she asked him with chin held high, and the typical grin re-emerged on Glitch's face. He gave an elegant bow, and DG just caught a second eye roll from the Tin Man with some satisfaction.

"Of course, Princess!"

* * *

DG noticed the emptiness of the dining hall as she stepped inside, feeling a tingle down the back of her spine that she'd learned to trust as the months wore on. Azkadellia and Raw's seats sat empty, though they often began eating long before the rest of them arrived; Ahamo, normally first to the table with those two, was also conspicuously absent.

"Where is everyone?" she asked aloud, and her mother glanced up from where she picked at her plate to smile weakly at her youngest daughter. The Queen's freedom, bought with a terrible price to the O.Z., still left scars on her gentle soul. Fifteen years of separation from a dear and doting husband, and the guilt of losing her eldest daughter to an evil, ancient witch wore heavily upon her. DG knew that she hoped to pass on the mantle of leadership soon in order to spend her years with the family she loved so dearly.

No one had mentioned the difficulty of such things to DG, but considering who stood next in line to be Queen of the O.Z., no one had needed to. The Queen and Ahamo had worked tirelessly to spin the tragic story of Azkadellia's possession by the witch to the people, playing on their sympathies as well as their joy at the reunion of the royal family, but things moved slowly, and many people remained angry and reticent to accept Az as the Crown Princess. And if DG let herself be honest, she wouldn't blame them at all for their feelings on the matter.

"Good morning, my angel," the Queen welcomed with tired lavender eyes, her voice carrying across the open hall. "Please, you and Ambrose, and Mr. Cain of course, sit and eat."

"Sure…" DG took her normal seat at her mother's right side, certain now that something was going on. She sat back as a servant walked by to set a very warm plate and glass of ice-cold juice in front of her, waiting for his retreat before voicing the question she knew everyone hesitated to ask. "Mother, is everything all right?"

The Queen opened her mouth to speak, closed it, sighed, and then tried again. "Your sister fell ill last night. Your father heard her screaming, in the midst of some horrible dream, and called the Viewers to try and see what ailed her. They haven't come out of her room for hours, and the guards have been given orders to let no one in until they come out again."

"Az is sick? But she was just fine yesterday!" DG exclaimed, dropping her fork with a clink onto the china plate, a full bite of syrupy fruit left forgotten. She frowned. "Has she been having these dreams for a while?"

Her mother shook her head, clearly worried. "I don't know, DG. Your sister hasn't confided in us much at all since… well, since her liberation from the witch's influence. Ahamo has been the most able to speak with her, since they were so close before."

"I wonder if it has anything to do with the magic she used while the witch controlled her." All eyes turned to Glitch, not wanting to interrupt his rare moment of true lucidity. He grinned nervously, and shrugged at them. "Well, I mean, I heard stories of that soul-sucking thing that she did to people who made her angry, or failed her in some way—"

"Like the Mystic Man," Cain cut in, breaking his usual silence to urge the advisor onwards. DG noticed how his blue eyes had hardened into ice chips to rival the frozen floating fortresses outside. She had known that, as a Tin Man in Central City, he had worked directly under the Mystic Man. Beyond that, however, she knew so little about it. It frustrated her, having missed so many years here and then starting from scratch, and it didn't help that one of her closest friends seemed perfectly okay with remaining a mystery and not opening up. Hadn't they been through enough that Cain could begin to trust them?

No, that wasn't quite fair, DG decided, her irritation at him fading slightly. Cain had a right to keep to himself, and she appreciated that he had decided to stay on and protect the royal family for now. He had a son to protect, but Jeb had grown into a man while Cain had been left in a tin suit for eight years, and had his own life and responsibilities. As a leader of the Resistance, Jeb chose to continue support of the royals by hunting down pockets of Long Coats still hiding in the O.Z. He even tried to spread the truth about Azkadellia and the witch, particularly after having the chance to see the changes in her for himself. But Cain still seemed unconvinced, and incredibly bitter. Staying with DG, Glitch and the others appeared to soften his cold exterior, but they all wondered if he would simply disappear one day.

Glitch nodded to Cain, and continued. "I don't know enough about magic to really say — we'll have to ask Tutor, I suppose — but wouldn't dark magic such as that have… well, certain side effects to it? I mean, if you look at it logically, when you eat something, you digest it completely, but there are still remnants of the fuel that stay in your body, as either fat, or broken down compounds that are absorbed into vital organs…" he trailed off, looking down at his plate. "Oh! Waffles! Is it waffle day already?"

DG paid the last comment no mind, twirling a dark curl behind her ear. "Glitch has a point, you know. Maybe some of that magic is starting to backfire without the witch to help her hold it at bay."

"You could be right, DG," the Queen replied thoughtfully. "I have used such magics in the reverse, particularly to save your life when the witch killed you, but never considered the idea of _taking_ someone's energies for my own," she shuddered visibly, placing a hand to her forehead. "I can only imagine what such things might have done to your sister's mind!"

As if on cue, the doors to the hall opened with a resounding creak, and Ahamo nearly staggered inside, his eyes bloodshot with dark bags forming beneath them. "Good morning, everyone," he tried to smile, a pale shadow compared to his normal, playful nature. The Queen rose from her seat, crossing the distance to her Consort and taking his hand, their conversation to low to be heard from the table.

DG turned to back to her friends, not bothering to hide the concern on her face. "I hope everything's all right."

"Probably is, kiddo, but then again, maybe not," Cain answered, now steadily working his way through breakfast as though nothing wrong had occurred or been said. He was nearly through, in fact, while DG's own plate remained almost untouched. Except for the apple slices, of course — she did love apples, after all, and distractedly took a crisp bite out of one.

"How can you be so calm about it, Mr. Cain?" DG raised an eyebrow at him while chewing. Did anything ruffle the man, aside from stampeding Papay or hunting renegade Long Coats?

But Cain merely stuck her with that steely blue gaze of his, and she began to feel defensive from this behavior. He was clearly biting his tongue over something, and she wanted to get right in his face and demand that he spit it out.

"Cain, are you going to elaborate on what's going through that tin brain, or are we going to have to play twenty questions?"

"Play what?" he asked, and DG groaned, dropping her face into her hands, deciding to connect the dots for him.

"You don't seem concerned _at all_ about my sister's safety! She's the princess and the _heir to the kingdom,_ for goodness's sake! Show a little heart, would ya?" her blue eyes flashed with an inner light at her spark of anger, and the table began to vibrate beneath her hands, but the tin man didn't seem to notice at all.

"Heart's exactly the problem here, kiddo," he shot back, bristling at the old "joke" between them and pointing his fork at her momentarily before returning to his grits. "Azkadellia — the witch, whoever — used that little soul sucking trick on countless people, and if the head case is right, there's still pieces of those souls lingering in her heart. Maybe they're even still conscious. How much confidence in the heir d'you think the people of the O.Z. will have when they find out about it?"

"Find out? It's none of their business!" DG looked to Glitch for backup on this, but her friend sighed and gave her a sorrowful glance.

"No, Cain's actually right, DG. Ideally the private life and actions of a ruler remain private, but it doesn't always happen that way in the real world."

"Yeah, I know that," she replied petulantly, her mind going over various political scandals she'd heard and read about while living in Kansas. They had never been fun, but a part of her had thought that the people needed to know what was going on with their government — ALL of their government — in order to have faith and trust in it. But was that the _right_ thing?

Ahamo and the Queen had reached the table at last, the Consort heavily sprawling into his chair to the left of his wife and at Cain's right elbow. Both looked incredibly worried, and almost in tandem looked at DG before answering the silent question hanging over them all.

"Azkadellia is recovering in her room with your Viewer friend," Ahamo explained, his voice strained. "Unfortunately, he said that this was not the first of these kinds of dreams, and they're steadily getting worse. She'll be resting in bed for the next couple of days, at least."

Silence fell, but DG was never one to keep it for long. "I guess no lessons this week, huh?" she asked, trying to sound playfully hopeful, but it came out flat. She really only half-hated the lessons her parents, friends and various advisors had been giving both of the princesses to prepare them for their roles in the renewed House of Gale monarchy — Az as Queen and DG as Royal Princess and Court Sorceress. She shuddered again, wondering for the thousandth time if she could convince her parents to at least find another term to use — she'd take "Royal Magician" over that!

"No, my child," her mother replied with a wan smile, "You must continue your studies, especially in magic. I fear that—" she trailed off, looking at Ahamo, who nodded to his wife encouragingly. "I fear that there may be outside forces at work here which are affecting Azkadellia's health. She may need your help, DG, in shielding herself from such attacks. As Court Sorceress, such will become your job, and much sooner than you may realize."

"Ah. Great. Gotta play Gandalf to save the hobbits. Got it." When everyone looked at her strangely, she made a face and went back to her food, ignoring them all. Today promised to be a busy one, and she wanted to enter it prepared and properly fed.

* * *

_**Notes:** Welcome, everyone, to the first chapter of "One to Light, One Alone." This tale has been brewing in my head for a while, and playing with the ideas I had kept me relatively sane during the darker moments of NaNoWriMo last month._

_Tin Man as a series is a huge favorite of mine, especially when considering my major in literature and lifelong passion for science fiction/fantasy in general. My goal here is to stay loyal to the characters and series as closely as I can while trying to explore both familiar and very different plot territories._

_Please feel free to leave a review to let me know if I made any errors, or if you'd like to see more of something in later chapters._

_~Mekanikora_


	2. Chapter 02 - Darkness, Drawn

_**Chapter 02: Darkness, Drawn**_

* * *

_**Notes: **Just one quick thing - I set the ice palace in the north as the official seat of the kingdom; this was based on the stories that Hank and Emily told DG as a child. Further, the location in an environmental extreme, combined with the fact that they're in the middle of a frozen lake raises its defensibility (which they need right now) - because who in their right mind would want to assault a family of powerful magic users in icy conditions? Discounting the Witch, of course, who was certainly not in her right mind, ever. _

* * *

Still troubled by the conversations held at breakfast that morning, DG sat against a crystal fountain overlooking a balcony of the palace, feeling the traces of magical energy used to keep the water from freezing solid. She used a similar spell on herself against the bitter cold to keep her body warm, wishing she'd had something like it during the winters in Kansas. Oh, they hadn't been as bad as, say, Alaska or Canada on the "gee it's cold" scale, but she nearly always got sick in November. The sniffles never really went away until March, making working at a diner lots of fun. She rubbed her hands, almost feeling the sting of liters of hand sanitizer pitilessly drying them out.

The suns sat vertically today, one almost exactly above the other as they rested among beds of fluffy clouds. The weather here in the north of the O.Z. tended towards the unpredictable, but one of Glitch's more interesting gadgets had proclaimed that it would stay sunny for a few days, for once. As winter approached, light grew limited to only a few hours, which really messed with DG's internal clock. Kansas didn't exactly sit on the equator or the poles, so she knew and understood the shorter daylight hours in colder months, but no one in the O.Z. seemed to understand how great daylight savings could be! However, despite her enthusiasm on the subject, even Glitch had scratched his head in confusion at that, muttering incomprehensibly about the Sun Seeder for hours afterward. So much for affecting domestic policy...

She had to meet Toto soon for her magic lessons, she noted at the back of her mind, the rest of it focused on the icy beauty of the frozen realm beyond the palace. In temperatures like this (well, not at all like _this_, she amended wryly) back in Kansas, she'd make a cup of hot broth spiked with some tabasco sauce, curl up in a pile of blankets in her cozy nook upstairs and draw for endless hours or until she had to go to work. Her mother — well, nurture unit — often had to storm up the stairs and scream at her to move her lazy butt and get going to the diner, or her boss, Carter, would rain fire and brimstone upon her for days on end. Talk about a tongue-lashing; no wonder DG could sass anyone in the Zone without batting an eye, the Witch included. A smile tugged at her lips at the thought, remembering clearly the details on Az's possessed face when DG repeatedly refused to give her information, even if she'd had it at the time. How she wished she could draw the scene, not wanting to lose such memories.

Come to think of it, when was the last time she'd drawn anything at all? Certainly not since she arrived here in the O.Z., and that thought saddened her. Closing her eyes tightly, DG held out a hand, feeling her light coalesce into a warm sphere. She pushed at it with her mind, molding the shapes and textures, using her memories to form the object into a familiar weight. When she opened her eyes again, a small sketchbook with the House of Gale emblem emblazoned on the cover had appeared, and with it a heavy art pencil. Extremely pleased with herself, DG's smile became an excited grin as she flipped the book open. Heavy paper greeted the sliding touch of her fingertips, rough enough for texturing, but not so much so that small details would be difficult to add later. The thickness suggested that, if she could find some paints or pastels, colors would stay put and even blend well, and a surge of creative energy sent a buzz through her, ringing in her ears like the clearest bell.

_Too long since I've done this,_ she nodded to herself, making a few test strokes with the pencil to test its weight and color on the page. She ran a finger over a thicker stroke, pleased to see that she could blend shadows so long as they were controlled. Good.

She adjusted her perch on the fountain, careful not to sit so close to the inner edge that she might fall into the water. Warmth spell or not, being soaked to the bone on a day like this wouldn't stave off hypothermia for very long.

And so, tapping the pencil against her chin momentarily, DG thought about what to draw. It didn't take long for the images of the past six weeks to flood her mind, and her hand dropped to the paper, furiously sketching. She started at the beginning, with the dreams and the travel storm, the faces of the Long Coats and her parents' — nurture units', she kept forgetting — frightened faces. She drew herself in the dream now, understanding that her memories had tried to break through then, with the spinning green doll and the fallen apples upon the green forest floors near Finaqua. Finishing a few roughs, DG chose a few images to rework, adding shades and movement, backgrounds and emotions with painstaking attention to detail. She wished for some colors, but decided to stick with black and white for now; she could always recreate large versions of her favorites later.

With no idea how long she had sat there, allowing her memories and ideas to flow onto the pages, DG found that she couldn't even stop between finishing one image and going onto the next — the cave, the witch, her mother's whisper of the emerald, the emerald itself, Redcap and the Eastern Guild, meeting each of her friends… Raw as he emerged from a Papay runner's snare, Glitch trussed up like a scarecrow in a hanging cage, and then dressed in a borrowed jacket and fedora at the Mystic Man's show, Cain with a frown… Cain about to fire his pistol…

"Princess," a voice called, but she didn't hear it, lost in the lines of someone's face, determined to recreate it in absolutely perfect detail. She'd just finished Azkadellia's dark eyes, the knowledge that her sister was ill driving that focus even further, but this new face had her even more so, biting her lip so hard that it nearly bled.

"Princess!" the voice called again, and DG gasped, looking up at Toto's less than amused face.

"Sorry, Toto. What did you say?" she shook her head, letting the memories wash away into the safety of her mind. She snapped the sketchbook shut, not even sure which image she had been working on so dutifully before her tutor had interrupted.

The shapeshifter sighed with familiar patience. "It's _Tutor,_ DG. We were supposed to meet down in the ice garden today, remember?"

She did now, but hadn't before. "I'm sorry. I guess Az being out for the count has me a bit frazzled today." Shrugging her shoulders, she saw Toto's hard brown eyes soften just a bit in understanding.

"That's all right. Actually, you found a much better place for your lessons today. How's that warming spell working out for you?"

"Better. I don't have to think about it as much now, since it's cold all the time," she admitted, giving him a blue-eyed grin. "But I turn it off sometimes to try and conserve energy."

Toto was nodding, approving of the method. "Both will serve you well. I think the constant use of your light will help to not only balance your abilities, but also teach you how to stretch the energy almost indefinitely. Your mother could keep a small background spell going for weeks and forget completely about it. I would be interested to see how long you can maintain one without fatigue."

"I'll certainly look into it, but Toto, are we really going to be here for so very long?"

He frowned, confused by the question. "Well, this is the true Royal Palace, where your sister will rule after her coronation — why do you ask?"

DG placed her sketchbook aside, drawing her knees to her chest on the fountain bench and casting her gaze out across the ice. "It's so… lonely here. So many bad memories. I would think Finaqua would be a much better place to have a home base. Or even Central City!"

"Home base, Princess?"

"Never mind. The point is, who made that choice? Mother?"

"Because your mother is still Queen, we remain here," Toto reasoned, moving to sit near DG on the bench, "But when your sister takes the throne officially, she can choose whichever palace she wants to rule from, or build a new one if she likes."

"Just what the O.Z. needs, a new palace," she muttered under her breath, then sighed, looking down at her rather ratty sneakers with an expression of disappointment. She picked at the filthy laces, knowing that she would have to throw them away soon, just like she'd thrown away other ruined articles of clothing from the Other Side. How much of herself would she have to let go while moving on towards this new life everyone wanted her to have? Did she get a choice in any of it?

Toto pursed his lips, but stood once more, gesturing to the fountain. DG followed the point of his fingers, noticing how clear and colorless the water looked, lacking any impurities or pollution like she might have seen back home. It sparkled in a gentle spray just over where the stream impacted the pool beneath, making prismatic colors dance over and through the emerald crystal surface, as well as the various figures carved into it. She thought she could recognize a Viewer, a munchkin, and other creatures she had come to know during her time in the O.Z. They all gathered around a magnificent figure at the top of the fountain — a beautiful queen with long braided tresses and a heart-shaped face, but her eyes were distant and sad, the water seeming to pool at their corners like the sheen of tears.

DG wasn't usually one for relying on luck or omens or superstition, but she felt a chill when she saw that figure. It reminded her of her many times great-grandmother, the Grey Gale herself. The ghostly figure from the Royal Crypt had seemed eternally young and yet impossibly old to DG when the emerald had been handed to her, and also so worried, so sad for the fate of the realm she'd ruled over for so long… sad for _her_, perhaps?

"DG? Are you listening?"

She shook her head, rubbing at a sudden dampness in her eyes that stung in the cold air. "Sorry, Toto. What was that?"

"I said, as Court Sorceress you'll be tasked with different duties, such as maintaining a spy network and contacting members of the court and army. I want to show you one of the easiest ways to do this."

DG frowned, rubbing the tip of her nose. "Spy network? You mean like with the witch's mobats? That seems so… dirty and underhanded. Can't we give that to someone else?"

"Well, certainly you could, but you would still have to read the reports and verify them before they're presented to the Queen," he pointed out grimly. "So it might be best to learn this just in case, say, a spy becomes compromised, or his loyalty comes into question. Or do you want them to help a rogue faction kill your sister?"

She shivered again, and once more not from the cold. "Okay, okay, Toto, point taken. Just show me so we can get it over with. But please note my protest in the captain's log."

Toto seemed about to ask, and then just as quickly gave up, gesturing to the water. "Will it to be still, DG."

Raising a hand over the water, the young woman let her light flow through her, pleased to find that the more she practiced, the more easily the power answered her summons. She _pushed_ at the water ever so slightly, asking it to… well, not freeze, because that wasn't what Toto wanted, but to simply slow down. Calm. Be at peace. _Be one with the Force_. She fought a giggle.

A golden glow blossomed beneath her palm, spreading like confetti over the crystalline waves, and then it obeyed her command soundlessly, smoothing the surface into a flat, reflective mirror. She could see the signs of her own astonishment as well as Toto's pleased old face, nodding with excitement.

"Yes! Perfect, DG. Now don't lose your concentration, or this won't work." He waited, making sure that the spell didn't waver, and then continued. "Now, let's try something easy. Picture your mother's face as clearly as possible."

Almost immediately, an image of the Queen appeared on the water. It had fuzzy edges, the proportions slightly off, as though she looked at a faded photograph. DG's hand twitched, not used to thinking about three different things at once, let alone listening to her tutor.

"Good. You've successfully transferred a remembered image into the pool. Now, ask the water to show you where she is right _now_."

"Ask the water?" she managed to ask through gritted teeth.

"Water flows everywhere, child. It's in the air, the earth, and therefore can connect to itself like a web. It's the perfect medium through which to See. Unlike the Viewers, who need no medium to See unless sharing the images with others, we humans require a substance through which to channel our energies."

DG didn't reply, trying to focus on asking the water to show her mother. The images on the surface wavered, then vanished, clouding into an incoherent mess. She heard Toto telling her to focus yet again — that had to be his favorite word — and after what felt like hours, the smoke and clouds cleared once more, now revealing the pacing, slender figure of her mother. Surprised, she nearly dropped the spell altogether, but her attention narrowed onto the image as she noticed the Queen's lips moving; she was speaking to someone. She asked the water to expand the view, or something, and frowned as the clouds returned, but cleared just as quickly.

Now the image held not only her mother, who appeared to be speaking now, but also the Viewer, Raw, who looked equally distressed. DG tried to increase her focus, straining to hear their conversation, but to no avail. Pushing harder on her light, she distantly felt a chill slither down her back — a sign of the warming spell wearing thin.

"That's enough, DG, back off now," Toto instructed gently. "We'll talk about how to listen in later." No response, and the glow increased. "DG. I thought you didn't like the idea of spying?"

And with that, the glow abruptly faded. Toto smiled wryly, giving his student a sidelong glance. "All right then. Let's try a place you're familiar with this time. How about Finaqua, since you mentioned it earlier? Let's find the swing by the lake, where you found your mother's message about the emerald."

"Aren't we all about emotional trauma today?" DG muttered, but tried to recall the images she remembered. Slowly but surely, the swing in its jade-colored gazebo appeared on the water. A chipmunk darted across the smooth, painted wood, looking up at the swing for a moment before carrying on with its business, several nuts stuffed in its puffed-out cheeks. She continued to watch, looking over the beautiful lake as past memories niggled the back of her mind, just out of reach. A shadow fell over the swing then, and DG frowned, focusing on it.

"Who is that?" Toto prompted, though DG couldn't determine whether the question stemmed from pure curiosity or an academic interest. Either way, the side-seat Seeing annoyed her.

"I don't know. The distance is so far… it's hard to get a good grip on the images…" even as she spoke the picture wavered, and she braced herself on the fountain bench on her knees, hands clasped with palms out as silently she called out every last reserve of her light to help. Time passed, taking so much longer than when she tried to see her mother in another part of the palace, but the shadow with each ticking moment gained definition, and color, and features.

Proud features crowned by curly blond hair, and a pair of ice blue eyes inherited from an equally prideful Tin Man… Jeb Cain.

"Ah yes," Toto mused, rubbing his chin. "I had forgotten that Captain Cain had been sent to Finaqua."

He went on, but DG wasn't listening, her thoughts not even on Jeb, but on his father. She hadn't wanted to admit it at breakfast, but Cain had a point about Azkadellia — if she did have residual… what? Soul-stuff? Ectoplasm? Other memories? If that kind of thing stayed locked in her head from the magic she'd done to remove people's souls, how might that affect her reign? Was she stable enough to be crowned at all? Would the people accept her like that, even if they accepted that all of the atrocities she'd enacted upon the O.Z. were not her actions, but that of an ancient witch?

DG didn't like thinking about it at all, honestly. The fact that Wyatt Cain had made the point gave it more weight in her mind, and that bothered her. Cain had a good judge of character and possessed an astute situational awareness, though magic tended to be a subject way out of his depth. Maybe he was wrong… but a part of her knew that he probably wasn't.

As if in answer to her summons, the Tin Man himself appeared in the ghostly surface of the pool. Sequestered away in a part of the palace she hadn't yet explored, he sat at a long wooden table, holding a rag as he polished the parts of his gun, which lay strewn in some neat but indistinguishable arrangement next to him. She found herself fascinated by the actions, noticing how calm and at peace Cain appeared; had she ever seen him look like that before?

"DG, you're losing your focus," Toto chided as the images clouded again. Unwilling to let it go, DG held the image a moment longer before letting go of the spell completely, allowing the fountain to at last resume its bubbling, flowing cycle.

"That's enough for today, I think," Toto announced, observing that his student's forehead held small beads of sweat from the effort of her focus. He looked pleased by the progress of the day, which probably explained why they were quitting so soon. That, and it was probably close to lunch time (considering how much time she'd spent waiting for him while drawing), and she had never known the shapeshifter to miss a meal.

Halfway inside, DG whirled back around and darted to the fountain to retrieve the nearly forgotten sketch pad, opening it to where her pencil marked the latest doodle. She paused, tracing the lines that stopped short, interrupted by Toto's appearance. Her mind moved back to the final image conjured in the fountain only moments ago.

She hadn't done his eyes any justice, she decided with a smirk, deciding to find something blue to color with later. Watercolor, perhaps, to get that icy shade just right.

Somehow not feeling hungry after expending a ton of magical energy (stranger things had happened, but only rarely), DG took a determined detour to her sister's room, where she had seen her mother and Raw pacing in the spy spell. To her knowledge, Azkadellia had not yet come out; DG didn't even know if she had even regained consciousness.

No one stood outside the door now, which either meant that everything was fine, or everyone was sitting in some kind of vigil around her sickbed. That was what people did with royalty, right? Sit around and stare at them as they slept, willing them to wake back up?

Idly, DG wondered about her own funeral all those years ago. Certainly, her mother had used her magic to revive her before then, but did they hold some sort of state funeral, with all the bells and whistles for the lost princess? And where had she been during the event? Did her mother whisk her away to the Other Side beforehand in order to spare her young daughter the trauma, or had she been present and hidden, completely unaware of the proceedings?

_Perish the thought,_ she shuddered. _So creepy._

Softly knocking on the door, DG waited for a response. When none came, she bit her lip before pushing the door open. No one sitting next to the bed; that was good. Her sister?

"Affirmative…" came the whisper despite herself as she took in Az's state. Wrapped in several blankets for warmth, Azkadellia looked paler than the frost clinging to the windows, her eyes fluttering in a strange halfway point between sleep and wakefulness. Her hair, still bound in a braid, lay tossed to one side, making her look as young and vulnerable as DG had last remembered her long ago in the cave. She had on the same expression of terror now that she had worn then — a bone deep, gut-wrenching horror. Could dreams really be so very powerful?

Stupid question. Hadn't a dream first started the gears in motion for her back in Kansas?

_A storm is coming,_ the vision of her mother had pleaded, but for what, she hadn't known at the time. If only she could find some way to get through to Az…

A thought struck DG, blue eyes widening with an epiphany. She had just practiced conjuring images in a pool of water, but couldn't images be moved _outwards?_ Could she, perhaps, do what her mother had done and try to reach Azkadellia that way, try to help her wake up?

"Worth a shot, right sis?" she murmured, brows furrowed while DG tried to bolster her courage. She'd never done this before, and so didn't even have any grasp of what kind of magic might work, or if her efforts would only make things worse…

_No. I can do this. Az wouldn't hesitate for me._ She took a deep breath, trying to clear her head and focus as Toto had always reminded her to do. Her hands reached out to grab one of Azkadellia's, instantly feeling the light between them shine as it always had, seeing the golden sparkle ring around their joined fingers.

"Here goes nothing," DG breathed, closing her blue eyes.

_Az? Az? Can you hear me? _Not even trying to send an image of herself yet — since God only knew what _that_ might look like — she tried to let the words flow through their light into her sister, hoping that some part of it might reach her.

_Az?_ She tried again, not sure how to make her "voice" gain volume in thought form, and kept repeating the name, over and over. Finally…

_Deeg?_

DG's eyes popped open for instant, but Azkadellia hadn't stirred. Still, she could have sworn…

_Az? Azkadellia? Sis?_

_DG, where are you?_ The mental voice was a sweeter version of their mother's, but the irony of Az's call was not lost on DG. But she was getting through!

_Az, what happened? We were worried about you!_

_Deeg, you shouldn't be here… you have to finish it. It's not finished yet… _the voice began to fade, and she could feel the fear in it. Fear for her, for their family, for the O.Z. …

_Az, please, tell me what's going on? _But Az's voice had disappeared, and she was about to break the contact completely when familiar words suddenly broke from both Azkadellia's mind voice and her lips:

"_But only one and one alone_

_Will hold the Emerald and take the throne_

_Only one and one alone…"_

"Az?" DG whispered, somehow knowing that the words didn't belong to Az, and never had. The witch had spoken them to her twice before; nothing good had ever followed the utterance. And then, laughter started to become audible out of the air, with no source and no real voice. It grew louder and louder; Azkadellia began to toss in her sleep at the sound. Louder still, DG felt the windows begin to rattle, the bed and chair trembling. She clapped her hands over her ears, but still it wormed through to her brain, chuckling and chortling and guffawing and giggling and screeching and screaming and bellowing in dozens of different voices that forced a scream from DG's lips just before the youngest Gale princess blacked out completely.

* * *

_**Notes:** And that's chapter two. I'm currently working on the third one now, but it may be the weekend before it's posted; things are incredibly busy at work at the moment._

_It's exciting to think about this adventure I have planned for DG & Co., but it might be another couple of chapters before they actually get going. There's a few things I want to have set up before they step outside the palace, particularly the politics behind why Az is Crown Princess rather than DG, for example. _

_We'll see Glitch again next chapter – I love writing for him, so he can't stay away for long! Reviews are always welcome._

_~Mekanikora_


	3. Chapter 03 - Prophecy's Echo

_**Chapter 03: Prophecy's Echo**_

* * *

Cold marble against her back, freezing her spine and emerald-tinted darkness met her vision. Raising her hands, DG gasped at the quickly warming air. Palms pressed to a smooth stone surface, and her legs strained to stretch, finding equally binding walls that kept them folded, unable to move. To both left and right sat even more of the immobile marble, and she choked on a scream as it burned unbroken in her throat.

_Oh my god!_

Not again. _No no no no no no no… _She had never wanted to see a coffin again, let alone be back in the royal tomb — she screamed, pounding her fists relentlessly against the stone, ignoring the pain, ignoring the futility — by everything and anything holy, she wanted _out! _Her useless cries reverberated around the tiny chamber, the lack of echo making her yell even louder and bringing hot tears of shame and horror streaming from her eyes, burning trails pushing down her cheeks.

Memories — and the semblance of sense — began to weakly return. DG twirled her fingers as she had done before, listening for the telltale scratching whine of the screws unwinding themselves as during the time Azkadellia had given her this very same torture. But she heard nothing, and her heart began to race.

"HELP!" she screeched, fingers flying to the edges of the coffin, running over the icy smooth stone, questing for a loose seam or a crack she could nick at with her nails, something to push and brace against, anything at all to—

_My Angel?_

DG stopped cold, feeling lightheaded from her hyperventilation. She must have been hearing things, but it sounded as though —

_DG, do you hear me?_

_M-mother?_ Sweeping relief fell over her, embracing her like the cradling arms of a trusted friend. Heart pounding in her ears, she could feel a presence in her mind spreading calm and peace, cooling the hot sweat on her brow. Her mother spoke again.

_Follow the light, child. Do you see it?_

She tried. She flung her senses as far as they would go, tendrils of energy snaking outwards in search of an exit, a lifeline home.

"No," DG sobbed aloud in defeat, trying to curl into a ball as much as possible in the confined space, and hitting her head accidentally on one wall as a result. She saw nothing at all, and decided then that in her twisted little mind - now throbbing with the pumping of adrenaline rushing through her veins - she had conjured her mother's voice out of pure despair in her vain attempts to escape.

_Dorothy Gale! You will listen to me_ now! Calling more sharply, it cut right through her coughing, choking sobs, but she shook her head at the delusion firmly.

_I'm scared… _she told the not-voice, closing her eyes against the darkness and feeling a rush of new terror that the void behind her lids, equally blank and pitch-black, held no solace.

But the Queen's voice persisted, refusing to let her daughter go. _I know, darling. But reach out now. Look for the light and touch it. Let it bring you home to me, as it did before. Look for it now._

Thinking of telling it to go away, but at the same time craving that it continue to keep her company, DG took a deep breath. What had she to lose from listening to it?

She opened her eyes, straining to see anything at all around her. Hitting her hands once more on the lid just above her head, she took a deep breath and sent her magic outward with fresh determination. Still nothing for a long time, but then the barest hint of _something_ connected with her mind.

_Mother?_ she asked silently, nearly begging for escape, and her hope must have given more fuel to the magic, for a spark of silver light appeared above her, and DG reached out to touch it hesitantly, fearful that she might be making it up in her twisted, sick mind.

_Come back, DG. _Her mother called again, and DG sighed, a tremble shaking her chest as she grabbed the light in both hands, holding it to her chest as she might a teddy bear…

And she felt herself fall.

* * *

"DG?"

"Come on Deeg, wake up already…"

"DG wake now," someone pointed out in a deep, rumbling tone, drawing her out of a deep hole and back into the real world.

"Hnn…" the princess groaned, raising a hand to block shards of light from stabbing relentlessly at her eyes. Her body sank into a comfortable mattress, cushioning pillows propped up her head; why was the light so darned _bright?_

_It was completely dark a moment ago… _Then the memories of the nightmare hit her, and DG sat up abruptly, releasing a startled but relieved shriek.

Raw, the Queen and Ahamo sat at her bedside, all equally shocked by the force of her outburst. Raw was the first to recover, placing his hand reassuringly on her shoulder and patting it. "DG awake. Good."

Ahamo and the Queen visibly relaxed, the tension releasing from their postures as their daughter appeared to be all right and in her right mind.

"DG, we were so worried," Ahamo spoke quietly, his face still worn from his vigil over Azkadellia. Guilt flooded her immediately as she understood, just by looking at her saddened parents, just how stupidly she had acted. She felt so selfish and arrogant, thinking that her paltry magic might have been able to do what a group of Viewers and her own parents could not.

_Your adventures have a way of getting me into trouble!_ Az's voice from long ago rang like bells, and pain would have staggered her, had DG been standing. Did she make everything worse again?

"How long was I out?" she murmured, trying to disguise her shame by rubbing the still-wet tear streaks from her face. "It felt like I was in that thing for such a long time…"

"I imagine so," her father frowned, glancing at the Queen. "You were unconscious for nearly a full day, DG. What in the world were you trying to do in there?"

She blinked slowly, processing that. Ignoring Ahamo's question — she couldn't think about it now — DG decided to ask one of her own. "A whole day?"

"Yes, darling," her mother spoke now, drawing her into a tight embrace. She stiffened for a moment, for not even her nurture unit had embraced her in such a motherly way in a long time. Forcing herself to relax, DG tried to smile.

"We were so worried that whatever had happened to Azkadellia had passed to you… but you see, my daughter, she has not yet wakened from her own dream."

"Still? Not at all?" So all of this had done absolutely nothing? Great. _Fantastic sorceress _you_ are, Deeg. _However, the Queen's next words drew her out of a quickly spiraling depression with a sharp kick to the posterior. Metaphorically, of course — she couldn't imagine a proper lady like her mother having anything to do with anyone's rear end, let alone striking one with a high-heeled shoe.

"Aside from a few minutes this morning, no. We can't reach her as we did you."

"But I did! I got through to Az!" DG exclaimed, grabbing her mother's shoulders. "I didn't see anything, but there was this laughter and the voices and they said something, it was so familiar, I think I've heard it before, I—"

"Whoa there, firecracker," Ahamo stopped her with a raised hand. "Slow down for a second and explain this to us, because we never heard or saw anything when we tried to get through to Azkadellia today." Her father's eyes glinted with hope.

DG looked over at Raw, who nodded agreement. "Azkadellia has dark dreams, but Raw cannot see. Lost in own mind. Darkness haunts her. Dark magic."

"You mean, this is a spell?"

"Raw not know. Toto not know. DG only one to hear anything."

"I what?"

The Queen sighed, leaning back in her chair with a distant look on her face. "Angel, I'm sorry, but we have to know what you heard when you reached your sister. I'm not even going to ask how you managed it, for the two of you have always shared a bond I have never before seen. Even Tutor was confounded by your abilities at first."

Somehow, that made DG feel distinctly odd that her own mother, once the greatest sorceress queen of the O.Z., couldn't understand the combined power of DG and Az's magics. It certainly hadn't been part of that poem…

"Oh! That's it!" she slapped a fist against her palm, expression brightening. "I remember something now. One of the voices said something I'd heard Azkadellia say before, when… well, back when she wasn't herself."

"Go on, DG. Tell us," Ahamo requested, reaching an arm around his wife's shoulders as they gazed at their daughter intently.

"It said, _'But only one and one alone will hold the Emerald and take the throne.'"_

The Queen gasped, her eyes filling with the tears of dark, bitter memories. "By Ozma, no. I thought we were through with it…" a moan fell from her lips, betraying the bone-deep anguish many had thought healed upon the recovery of both daughters and the witch safely gone.

"My dear," Ahamo drew her close, stroking the back of her neck as the Queen cried into his shoulder. DG watched this with some discomfort, getting the distinct feeling that she wasn't going to like what all of this meant.

"I'm… going to get some air. The dream kinda fried my circuits," she mumbled, looking at Raw, who nodded and began to stand. Ahamo shot her a grateful look, though his face had returned to its haggard state, and DG forced a smile. Trying not to be put out that she was the one recovering from a horrible nightmare and had to be the one to leave the room first, she let Raw help her to her feet and lead her out. To be fair, her mother looked pretty frazzled, so she let it slide, but it didn't lessen her irritation.

"DG mad. And scared," Raw observed as they exited the room. He took a moment to shut the door behind them, and DG gave him a pale smile, running a hand through her tangled mop of hair and twisting a bit around one finger. The other hand moved to wipe the remainder of both sweat and tears from her face, eternally grateful that, unlike Azkadellia, she chose to keep her face clean of most types of makeup.

"You can say that again," she muttered at the Viewer's comment.

He looked innocently confused at that. "Why say again? DG already know."

She bit her lip, though a laugh escaped anyway. "Sorry. Other Side humor. But yeah, I'm pretty messed up by that dream."

The Viewer's eyes darkened. "Saw dark place. Death place." When DG shuddered, he went on. "Deep fear of tight places. Start with Azkadellia?"

"Actually, no, it didn't. But I don't want to talk about it just now. It's still too fresh on my mind, you know?" But the memories came flowing back anyway, drawing her into a grey watercolor painting of childhood. It must have been only a short time after Hank and Emily had begun taking care of her in Kansas, for she remembered being angry at them all the time. She tried to run away several times, never getting very far due to the remote location of the farm. But that didn't mean hiding places didn't exist for a little girl who knew how to hide.

One night, rain had fallen heavily, and Emily had tried to read a story to help little DG sleep. Unfamiliar with the tales of the Other Side, the little princess had asked for a story from the O.Z., and Emily had feigned surprise and shock, scolding her for insisting that such things existed. They had argued, and DG had stormed from the room with tiny footsteps which echoed the thunder outside. The lightning had frightened her, but she was far too proud to go back and admit defeat, and so she had dragged open the entrance to the root cellar, crawling inside and shutting it behind her. It had been incredibly dark inside, and she had groped around for a lamp or flashlight, and had ended up knocking a shelf of drying vegetables down over herself, trapping her beneath its weight.

She had cried and screamed for hours, begging and apologizing and praying that Hank and Emily would eventually find her. She had been so frightened, and ashamed in her own pride. When Hank had finally come down looking for her sometime later (she had never known how long) he had said nothing at all, merely picked her up and carried her back to the house, where Emily had hysterically wept and hugged her for a long time, rocking them both into a deep sleep.

A doctor's visit and a cast for a broken arm later, little DG had promised herself never to do such a dumb thing again — or, at the very least, run away somewhere with a flashlight next time.

DG felt herself move back into the present, the world coming back into clear, technicolor focus. "Sorry, Raw. Guess I got lost for a minute there."

Raw nodded again in understanding, tilting his head to one side and giving her a shy smile. He always knew when to offer comfort, and when not to pry. She started to say something more when a twinge began behind her eyes, and started to blossom into a growing, pounding ache. Raw moved to steady her, grasping her shoulder with worry.

"Not fully recovered. Need rest."

"From what I hear, I've rested plenty already," she protested, trying to wave him off. "Really, Raw, I'm fine. Like I said, just need some air. Clear my head a bit."

"Hmm. Maybe skip dance lesson today then. Spin not good for headache."

DG resisted the urge to slap herself in the forehead. Of all the lessons she'd been forced to endure during her time here as Princess, dancing lessons with Glitch were the one thing she truly enjoyed. Not because she was any good at it, mind you, but because it was _Glitch!_ Her friend had some serious rhythm, and it certainly helped that he had a wellspring of patience when it came to teaching — especially when talking about DG's two left feet and stomping steps. Most of which landed none-too-gracefully on the advisor's foot.

Nevertheless, it was amazing fun, and she didn't want a stupid headache getting in the way of it. "Oh, Raw, he's going to be so mad at me!" she whined.

Raw chuckled at her, dark eyes glittering. "No mad. Happy to save feet."

DG stuck her tongue out at him, and turned on her heel to head toward's Glitch's workshop, the Viewer trailing dutifully behind her.

* * *

_**Notes:** I know I promised Glitch this time, but I had to decide whether or not to have a super-long chapter (put together, it was pushing 5000 words) that might take another few days to finalize, or a somewhat short one that is complete and ready to go. Forgive me! The next one should be up soon, with Glitch (and Cain!) for sure. I'm sure you're all wondering why the heck _they_ weren't waiting for DG to wake up... _

_See you next time!_

_~Mekanikora_


	4. Chapter 04 - A Lesson Parried

_**Chapter 04 – A Lesson Parried**_

* * *

Down three sets of stairs they descended. Through much dimmer, emptier hallways than DG was used to in the upper levels of the palace they carefully tread, as if afraid of disturbing the ghostly stillness. A deeper magic than she could have conjured still permeated the air here with a silence, an emptiness from long-time abandonment. The princess, swallowing a lump in her throat, forced away comparisons to the coffin of her nightmares, focusing solely on the strange glowing lights emerging from Glitch's workshop. The man always seemed to be working on something new, often leaving old projects unfinished for week or even months at a time before picking them up again. Further, he seemed perfectly capable of working on two or three things at once, darting from idea to idea faster than anyone could comprehend — and that was with half of his brain still missing!

The odd side of it was that despite the piles of half-formed ideas scattered everywhere, it all sat in an orderly, organized fashion which baffled everyone. DG especially figured that a "mad scientist" type like Glitch would leave things haphazardly wherever he happened to drop them, but his work seemed to keep him focused in a way she'd never before seen when they first met. Perhaps the bits of Ambrose which remained helped him do so, and she wondered whether her friend would eventually decide to reunite the disconnected part of his brain back into that zippered cranium of his.

They finally made it to the doors, and DG opened her mouth to call out to her friend when a insistently blaring, whining wail — which sounded far too much like the red alert klaxon on _Star Trek_ for her taste — deafened both her and Raw. Both clutched at their ears in a vain attempt to save their hearing, and DG tried to yell Glitch's name, but she might as well have whispered against the din. Her head started to pound even more, and she felt dizzy as the sound pelted her from all sides.

Just as quickly the sound vanished, leaving a buzzing ring in her eardrum that was even more annoying than the klaxon itself. Muttering a curse under her breath, along with several creative threats about opening that zipper of Glitch's to rearrange certain parts of his noggin so things made some darned _sense— _

"Princess?" a curly mop head popped up like a jack in the box among the piles of parts and clutter, clasping a pad and paper to his chest in one hand while a set of ridiculously oversized goggles perched lopsidedly across his pale forehead.

"Hi, Glitch!" Raw waved, already recovered from his shock, and DG rubbed her ears again. The buzz still hurt, but it had begun to fade some, and she struggled to keep her voice from yelling in order to compensate for the temporary hearing loss.

"Um, intruder alert, I'm guessing?" she ventured, straightening her jacket, and Glitch beamed back, clearly pleased.

"Yes! I call it the U.I.E.P.A.A.S. — the Unwanted and Illegal Entry Protection Auditory Alert System. It can be tuned to your body's electrical signal as a kind of code which allows you to enter, but others will set off the ringing sound you heard. I'm trying to see if it will accept multiple signature entries, but so far no luck. You think you could walk out and back in again while I tinker with it some more?"

_No _way_ am I doing that again! _Her smile tilted, twitching. "Erm… love to, but I thought we had a dance lesson today?"

"Dance? What a lovely thing! I love to dance!" he exclaimed, clapping his hands together like a child. He paused, then repeated the action twice before DG managed to chuck a book in his general direction, startling him out of the broken record loop.

"Hey! Don't touch that!" he yelped, trying to look appropriately grouchy, and ended up crawling awkwardly on the ground to recover the tome from under a desk. He brushed it off delicately and brought it back to exactly where DG had grabbed it, shooting her a stern _come on, be nice to my stuff_ look. Princess or not, he still kept the saucy attitude with DG, which had scandalized her mother at first. She remembered her haunted expression when the Queen discovered that Ambrose, her dearest friend and advisor, had changed forever, and though she had pushed to have his brain reintegrated as soon as possible, her pleas faded to dust when the new Ambrose — Glitch — slowly began to charm her. This was a new time for the O.Z., and many of the old ways simply couldn't stay as they were. Glitch knew that, and like DG, his memories had slowly begun to return with magical therapy and simply going back to old routines around the palace.

"Sorry, it was either that or slap you upside the head like Cain does," she explained after recovering from that momentary pause, drawing a wince and groan from Glitch.

"Yeah, yeah, don't remind me. Anyway, I thought dance lessons were after lunch?"

"Lunch over," Raw supplied, pretending to tap a watch on his furred wrist. "Glitch busy on project." He smirked at DG knowingly.

"Really? Haha, I suppose I was…" he scratched the zipper on his head sheepishly, about to say more when footsteps pounded in the hallways, the echo raising the sound of boots on marble to the level of war drums. "Wha—?"

_Speak of the devil, and he shall appear?_ The thought scampered unbidden through DG's mind, and she stomped on it with surprise and a stifled giggle. Where had _that_ come from?

No time for that — Cain skidded into the workroom before anyone could stop him, and the klaxon roared again, forcing all of them to clap both hands over their ears. Cain reached for his gun in the midst of his surprise, looking for something to aim at as the noise appeared to pummel him into near-senselessness. Glitch, seeing the drawn gun, leapt at him with all the grace of a mountain lion pouncing on prey, the fatherly instinct to protect his creations driving him to knock the Tin Man off his feet. Cain grunted as he fell smack on his side, his hat flying off. The pair landed sprawled over one another, and Glitch retained his grace just long enough to look Cain in the eye before the quiet _click_ of a cocked hammer sent him scurrying backwards. Glitch pouted at the Tin Man, ruffled and offended by the unspoken warning. He then reached into his pocket to silence the alarm, bringing a moment of blessed silence to the room. Aside from the buzzing, of course.

"Point that thing somewhere else," he sniffed.

Cain sat up, released the pistol's hammer, and holstered the weapon after a moment. "Glitch, I swear to Ozma…" he growled, straightening and rising to his feet in a single smooth motion that might even rival Glitch's usual grace. However, his blond hair stuck out in various directions — completely ruining the image — his hat having landed at DG's feet.

"It's okay, Cain, it surprised us, too," she quipped, picking up the hat and inspecting it, trying not to laugh at the Tin Man's grousing. "I guess the alarm works well if it brought you running here so quickly."

"Ha! Maybe I should install one in the palace rooms for the guards," Glitch reasoned, nodding happily until Cain kicked him in the shin.

"Don't you dare," he threatened, dusting himself off and extending a hand to DG. She handed him the hat, which ended up right back on the man's head. "I don't need a stupid storm siren waking me up at all hours."

"It is _not_ a storm siren," Glitch whined, "It's U.I.E.P.A.A.S. — the Unwanted—"

DG raised a hand to stop him, picking up on Cain's irritation and wanting nothing to do with aggravating it. "We're sorry, Cain. Really. Did we really wake you up?"

He tilted his hat downwards, but not before she noticed the redness in her friend's eyes, his features drawn and tight. As she thought back, her memories of breakfast today — yesterday? — held a similar image of Cain, as did her conjuration in the fountain with Toto. _How long has this been going on? _she wondered, a soft frown darkening her features.

Cain recovered his gruff expression when he realized that they were all looking at him, hiding everything behind the stone wall over his heart in an instant. DG felt a swell of annoyance overpower her concern; it bugged her to no end when he did that, since he did it _all the time._ When would he learn to trust them? Trust _her_?

Her headache, momentarily forgotten in all the excitement, knocked none-too-politely on the front of her skull, making her face nearly vibrate. One hand absently rubbed at her temple and forehead, chin dropping to her chest.

"DG?"

"Hmm? M'fine," she murmured, not entirely sure who spoke. "Just have to sit down. It's been a long day. Or two days? Don't remember."

"Don't remember?" that was Cain for sure, and she felt warm fingers grasp her elbow lightly. "What are you talking about?"

_So that's what it takes for that 'I'm so tough' mask to fall?_ DG thought, but didn't dare say it aloud.

"Where've you been, Tin Man?" Glitch sniped, already back to tinkering among his toys, reminding DG of a young boy playing with Legos. Surrounded by wrenches, wiring, and other parts she'd grown familiar with over the years on the farm made her yearn to jump beside her friend and start taking things apart, too. She had liked Lincoln logs as a kid before moving on to the erector set, and she wondered idly if there was anything in here that Glitch would let her fiddle around with.

_Yeah, Mother would really like that. I haven't told her about my mechanic thing… _her mind drifted again, as though someone hidden in her brain sifted through her thoughts and memories and tossed them around within her consciousness. It felt terrible, and only distantly did those fingers on her arm tighten.

"DG?" Cain prompted, his voice dropping an octave. "Hey, Princess, snap out of it. Glitch says you did something to Azkadellia earlier?"

"Mmm. Tried to reach her. Wake her up. Didn't work."

"You did what?!"

"Shh! Darn it, Cain, after that Yuipass thing that Glitch did—"

"U.I.E.P.A.A.S.," the advisor called in correction, and everyone else rolled their eyes in unison.

"Whatever… my head hurts, okay? Magical drain and getting stuck in Az's nightmare or something."

Gruff features softened. "Nightmares, huh?"

Quietly, soothingly, Raw spoke up with an eerie statement only a Viewer could make. "Cain sad. Haunted. Has nightmares, too."

To his credit, the Tin Man didn't flinch at the remark. "Yeah well, I think after what we went through, nightmares are gonna be part of the game for a while yet. But DG, what were you thinking, trying to do magic like that? You've only been working with Toto for what, a month?"

"Six weeks."

"Fine, six weeks. It still makes my point."

"Which is?" she sighed.

He paused. "Well, if you were just DG, I'd say you were damned idiot for trying it on your own. But since you're Princess now, I have to say something more polite, like 'that was dumb.'"

She laughed, not able to help herself. The sound seemed hollow, but still held some mirth. "Wow, Cain, what a way to make a girl feel awesome."

"I'm just telling it like it is, Princess, nothing more."

"DG forget lesson?" Raw asked, gently poking her in the shoulder.

"Huh?" she glanced at him over her shoulder, squinting. "Oh! Dance lesson. Right. Stomp-on-Glitch's-feet-merry-time."

"I heard that!" Glitch emerged from behind a pile of metal parts, hopping over some pieces which had clattered to the floor in the earlier scuffle.

"Would've been wasted if you hadn't," DG teased, still rubbing her temple. "You ready for this?"

"Not really, since I forget my steel-toed boots of protection today, but what the heck? I can test some of my new medical inventions on my broken tarsals."

DG winced, biting her bottom lip with slight guilt but jumping on a chance to skip something she hated. "Y'know, we don't _have_ to dance today. I mean, I'm all but drained still…"

"And what, then, shall I tell your mother when she asks about your progress?" Glitch eyed her, a bit of the old Ambrose shining through. He did that sometimes, ever since Raw had temporarily connected him to his brain in the Sun Seeder tower, and every time it jarred them. DG wondered if her friend even realized he did it.

"Well…" she hedged, shifting her weight from foot to foot and looking everywhere but at the advisor. Cain smirked slightly under the brim of his hat, clearly getting a kick out of the idea of the Other Side Princess trying to get out of a dance lesson. She fought the urge to walk over and kick him for it.

Ironically, considering his track record with courage, Raw jumped to her rescue, nudging her shoulder with his to prod her memory. "As Sorceress, need more than 'pretty' skills," he prompted, pointing to a corner of the workshop where more space had been cleared than the rest. "Must defend self well. And defend Queen."

"You mean…?" she followed his attention to that corner, seeing the white uniforms and long, pointed weapons that gleamed in the gas lamps above them. She whirled to face the Viewer, eyebrows nearly to her hairline.

"But Raw— I just explained how drained I am!" she whined.

"DG think enemy wait for you to rest?" he asked softly, his smile sly.

"What're you talking about, Fuzzball?" Cain returned with confusion written all over his face. Glitch, however, had caught on, and the prospect of teaching his charge something that didn't require the loss of feeling in his feet had him nodding enthusiastically.

"He means swordsmanship, Cain. Fencing," he stated proudly, already shedding his outer jacket. "Raw, you're a genius and a savior — that's a capital idea!"

"But— but—" DG protested, holding her hands up defensively in front of her.

"Oh, this I gotta see." The Tin Man bared his teeth in a mockery of a smile, moving to a corner near the makeshift strip, checking to make sure he would stay clear of any wayward weapons.

The girl followed him, pointing an imperious finger at his chest. "Hey, Tin Man! You're supposed to be keeping me out of harm's way! You're going to let him put a shiny pointy weapon in my face while I'm weak and defenseless?"

His smirk returned readily, not for one moment buying the 'poor me' act. "Oh, I fully approve of this. Especially considering your… _problem_ with guns."

"You make it sound as though I'm a total idiot!" she huffed, blowing up at the bangs hanging lopsided over her face and giving him a pout.

Actually, both of them knew that the problem lay not with DG herself, but her bloodline. Magic users, as a result of their ability to play with physics, often wreaked havoc on machines in the O.Z., causing them to break down or not work at all. Simple devices like levers, pulleys, basic locks and the like worked all right (DG remembered the simplistic yet effective system used to lock her in the Sun Seeder's dungeon level), but the more complicated devices had a higher risk of failure when someone blessed with magic drew near. Results of studies on this were scattered and inconclusive on what devices failed and when, but all agreed that magic users were a risk to machinery; in retrospect, it explained why none of Azkadellia's Long Coats had never been more than raging, testosterone-driven brutes.

As for DG, well… she'd been rather hesitant to pick up a wrench and mess with a motor like she used to do before magic re-entered her life.

Cain, however, had not known about this problem until the first time he tried teaching DG how to shoot a pistol. Everything had worked fine until she raised the weapon into a ready position to fire, but when she pulled the trigger, the hammer released. There was no explosive discharge, no bullet leaving the chamber. It had puzzled the both of them immensely, and as soon as Cain had gingerly removed it from her hands the bullet instantly plowed through the barrel, searing off to the side and making both of them yell in surprise. Twenty minutes of adrenaline cool down and a stern conversation with Ahamo and the Queen later, they never spoke of DG using a gun again. Which, as Cain had explained to DG afterwards, was probably for the best. He didn't feel comfortable letting her use one, mostly because it was too easy for things to go wrong, even for those without magic.

_Too easy to kill someone when you don't mean to,_ he had spoken quietly but with all the grim force of a Tin Man teaching a protegee. _Too much responsibility for someone who doesn't have a heart for killing. _What he had really meant to say (insofar as she had understood) was "I don't want you to kill anyone." She appreciated that, honestly, but Raw had a point, too; as Sorceress, her duty also meant the protection of the Queen. Which brought her back full circle to the swordsmanship thing.

By no means a new method of self defense in the O.Z., DG had often entertained notions as a child of fighting against unscrupulous pirates or playing the hero of an adventure story using nothing but her trusty sword against her enemies. The idea, initially proposed by her father, had made her shriek with excitement at the prospect. Her mother had frowned on it instantly, wanting her 'delicate' daughter to have nothing to do with such unladylike activities, but Ahamo had argued by reminding her that all members of noble society in the O.Z. carried a sword, and many of the high-born knew how to use them — and daggers, also— with frightening efficiency. In those rare times that magic either failed or DG found herself unable to use it, would they leave their daughter vulnerable or completely reliant on her retainers for help?

Needless to say, her father had won that battle, and DG had pumped her fists in the air with wild celebration… not very princess-like, she admitted now, but well worth the look on the Queen's wide-eyed, shocked face.

However, the actual use and practice of the sword proved much more difficult than she'd realized, explaining her current hesitation… smart remarks from a particular Tin Man aside.

Bless Glitch, for he had shown incredible patience over the past month for her general lack of coordination, but DG had nearly bitten his head off several times after countless hours of just _standing there_ and building "muscle memory" for the positions she could use to attack and defend. He would move around her like an artist scurried about an unfinished clay sculpture, adjusting an elbow here or her chin there, rapping her wrist firmly (but gently) with two fingers when it bent the wrong way. And then he'd ask her to switch to a new position, like a parry or a lunge — and those _hurt —_ and the whole process began again.

Perhaps even worse than the muscle memory exercises were the slow — okay, no: the agonizingly, painstakingly, _molasses-paced_ — drills both with and without the weapon. DG, who had never held much stock in the axiom "slow and steady wins the race," begged her teacher to let her actually _fight_ something the way her instincts had always encouraged. Glitch, alas, had come from a very old school of thought, where speed only came with the precision achieved through smooth, careful action. She figured wryly that the grace she so envied in him came from that school; unfortunately, a farm girl found herself far less cultured in such things.

Resigned to her new "lesson," DG walked to the rack of uniforms to pick up an old, padded grey jacket (she suspected it had once been white), a rusting metal chest protector, a stinky, stiff leather glove stained from years of both use and disrepair, and a mask covered with thick metal mesh to protect her face. She recognized the equipment from the occasional channel flips to the summer Olympics back home, but never paid any attention to fencing as a sport (or actual self defense) until she came here.

Pulling on a cord to zip the jacket up behind her, Raw came over to adjust her collar for her; she murmured a quick thanks before sniffing the mask, making a face of revulsion which made him _whuff_ in laughter, and pulled it over her face. The metal chest piece — Glitch called it a "plastron" — felt heavy and uncomfortable over her chest, but after seeing the size of the bruises received on an arm or leg after some direct hits with a sword's cushioned point, she decided it was more than worth the discomfort of wearing it.

A glance at Cain confirmed her suspicions that he was more than amused by her training getup, and her eyes fell to the pistol resting at his side. Upon gaining control of the throne after a violent coup, Azkadellia/the Witch had issued an order banning all firearms from the populace. The order had stated that all firearms be turned over to the Long Coats for their use as the O.Z.'s resident army, and anyone not a member of that army found in possession would be shot with it prior to confiscation. "For the safety of the people of the O.Z." declared the pamphlets and posters Glitch had shown her with distaste. Unfortunately, Azkadellia's spies were too good for any sort of underground market to supply the Resistance fighters, who had quickly abandoned the notion of using traditional warfare. Instead, they had turned to guerilla tactics and more creative weaponry to overwhelm the Long Coats whenever possible.

When the Queen had returned to power at the Witch's defeat, she had made several changes to the original order, many of which still made for hot debate across the O.Z. Luckily, a general consensus existed that the types of firearms made for use by the Long Coats, such as automatic rifles and mounted gatling guns, were unnecessary and dangerous during peace time. Further, the Queen had worried about undiscovered pockets of Long Coats stockpiling weapons to retake the O.Z., and feared for the safety of her still-unarmed people. Firm in her beliefs that guns were a weapon which had no place in her realm, she had made several public announcements to that effect, pleading for understanding from the scared and the downtrodden. Weapons discovered were immediately confiscated; some went to the royal armories, while others like the big guns were melted down for reuse. Blacksmiths and mechanics had emerged from the woodwork, cooperating to create tools, housing materials, and even vehicles from tools of war. Even so, the Queen carefully listened to the cries for leniency as time went on, and turned to her advisors for a safe way to further relax the order.

And so, with some help by one Wyatt Cain — a Tin Man beyond reproach in matters of public safety — the Queen had reinstated the renowned police forces not only in Central City, but throughout the lands in order to keep the peace and maintain order, all of whom had been rigorously screened by Viewers for any sympathies towards the Witch's regime. Despite Cain's growling, he had been officially named Commissioner of the Tin Men, meaning that he had the final say in recruitment and dispatch of their forces, in addition to having the Queen's ear with respect to domestic policy.

"Pick up the lighter sword today, DG," Glitch instructed, grabbing an identical one of his own, testing the weight and giving it an experimental flick towards the wall. Satisfied by the result, he strode with confidence over to the makeshift strip to stretch. Unlike DG, who covered herself nearly completely with protective gear, the advisor wore only a mask and glove over his usual clothing, giving hint to his mastery of the weapon. It still made her exceedingly nervous and worried that she might hurt her friend, but aside from stomping on him in the middle of a waltz, she had yet to land a touch on him with a blade that he didn't completely allow.

Capped with a rubber tip on the sharp point, DG tested it to ensure that it wouldn't come off easily when the blades connected, trying to relax her muscles and keep them from trembling. "I don't know how well I'll be able to do this today, Glitch, with my batteries so low," she halfheartedly protested, but the memories of the marble coffin drifted to the fore of her thoughts suddenly, and she found that she just might have the energy to fight off the tension from that episode.

Cain was actually the one to pipe up with a reply. "Raw's right, Princess. You can't assume you'll always be at your best when enemies attack. If you can train yourself to top level even when injured, sick or sleep-deprived, think of how deadly you'll be when healthy and aware."

He had a point, but she grumbled anyway, shaking out her wrist and popping it before pulling on her glove. "Yeah, yeah. Easy for you to say, gunslinger. Don't you have better things to do, anyway?"

"Than this?" he quipped merrily. "Oh no, I'm just fine right here for the moment, thank you. My duties to Queen and country can wait a while."

"And what might those be?"

He paused, mouth open, then shut it with a click. DG rolled her eyes and picked up the sword Glitch had suggested. "Fine, keep your secrets."

She approached the designated fencing area and saluted Glitch, his face invisible beneath the thick mesh of the mask. He added a flourish to his salute as befitted one of his station acknowledging hers, but unlike an in-court presentation, his eyes never dropped. She could tell the exact moment he moved into "battle" mode, taking a deep and shaky breath just before he called "En garde!"

* * *

_**Notes: **The return of Glitch, as promised! Were you expecting fencing, of all things? I have to admit, I was excited about writing that scene as well as the next chapter (where it continues with a twist!), since I've fenced for several years and fully believe it has a place in the O.Z._

_My husband read over the discussion of Cain's promotion and immediately started quoting the Batman movies. He liked my decision, but also suggested that maybe Cain's rank should be "General" instead. What do you all think? It's the Tin Men, not the army, and General of a police force is generally used only in authoritarian situations – such as with the Long Coats. _

_Anyway, sorry you had to wait so long. On top of me agonizing over making this chapter post-worthy, work's been insane, and it will take a few days for me to update again. Thank you to those who have reviewed and shown support! _

_~Mekanikora_


	5. Chapter 05 - Of Tin and Steel

_**Chapter 05 – Of Tin and Steel**_

* * *

_**Note:** The weapon DG and Glitch are using is called a foil, considered the basic yet highly theoretical "training" weapon in the fencing world. In theory, the truly dangerous spot would be at its point, since it's meant to be a stabbing weapon like a rapier. A saber is a slashing weapon with a sharp edge rather than tip, originally meant to be used by mounted cavalry. _

* * *

A breath whistled softly between her lips, its warmth bouncing back at her from the mesh of her mask, mingling in her nose with the scents of rusting metal and old sweat. DG processed that, and promptly filed it away in her mind, her eyes never leaving the mask of her enemy. For a moment, the flash of his weapon gave a flutter of temptation to follow it, be seduced by its motion, but too many times had the motion distracted her from her teacher's true movements.

Glitch's fluid grace gave him a deadly advantage in that he could change the direction of the sword's point mid-thrust, or he could trick her into thinking that it existed in a completely different location, drawing her own blade into a trap or out of guard.

He started simply, as he often did, with a quick lunge to test her reflexes. Her headache made the parry slower than usual, but she felt a satisfying thrum as the blades connected and sent a crack of metal whipping through the air between them.

"Nice, but too high, DG," Glitch murmured calmly from behind his mask, his features obscured but the pleased tone loud and clear. "Your parry six is still too weak."

Parry six — the upper outside parry. A weak position to take, as it forced the wrist outwards and exposed the inside silhouette of her body. But doing so, while opening her guard, allowed her to take certain liberties… _capture the weaker part of the blade with the stronger part of yours, and the enemy hasn't the power to stop your next action…_ the words from earlier lessons stamped themselves into her mind, and another breath hissed as she seized the initiative for a _riposte_ attack.

Taking a quick step backwards in hasty retreat, Glitch began to come after her again, but she broke the parry, raising her wrist and, keeping their blades in contact, circled her foil around his and under it clockwise, forcing _him_ into an unexpected six and leaving her tip pointed directly at his abdomen. Grinning, DG let out a yell and lunged with everything she had.

Of course, the advisor would never make it easy for her, and sidestepped the moment her blade moved free from his, twisting his blade upwards, then back down again in a sharp beat. DG's blade jumped in her hand, nearly escaping her grasp. She fought to recover, but she'd lunged too far outwards, her body stretched alongside Glitch's, and knew without seeing it that the tip of his blade was already ascending, arcing over her and aiming towards the back of an exposed shoulder… which is where the comparison to Olympic fencing began to unravel.

DG turned that shoulder, allowing her feet and torso to follow suit in a controlled pivot even as she raised the guard of her weapon over her head to clash against his steel in a quick-and-dirty _prime_ parry. He'd have her head for the sloppiness later, but right now it didn't matter a whole lot, for the reckless move had clearly surprised Glitch, and she could _feel_ his attitude shifting from the impassive teacher to a seasoned fighter.

She heard a soft gasp from the sidelines, knowing that Raw and Cain had also recognized the change in persona, but she had no time to waste. Remembering how much Glitch liked the close quarters of infighting, he let the sword slide down her blade, counterparry, and attempt to bait her into moving into a low seven. She didn't fall for it. She knew it would break her guard, and knew she couldn't step back, either.

Checkmate. Or was it?

DG stepped _forward_ into the attack, forcing Glitch to stumble, his blade going wild. She had him now, taking a left step, then back, back again, and _lunging —_

She allowed her eyes to close as her tip stopped just an inch from Glitch's own shoulder, her blade cleanly locked as the end of his own weapon rested ever so gently just above her hip.

"_Touche_," she muttered peevishly, trying not to let her disappointment show. The beat of her heart had reached her ears, sweat from the exertion beaded across her forehead and pooling at the fabric pressing just above her eyes.

"That was well done, DG," Glitch nodded, pulling his mask up so he could see her face. She wished she could do the same, but her mask, unlike his, covered both the front and back of her head for added safety.

"Didn't get a touch, though. Sucks."

His head cocked to one side, the antagonistic glint in his eyes fading to the more playful glitter she knew better. "Hmm, true. But you did throw me off-balance once with that ridiculous _prime_. I haven't even taught you that one yet."

"Seen you use it before, though," she pointed out, drawing a pleased smile from her teacher.

He hummed a moment, and then again, and a third time before she smacked him lightly in the knee with the side of the foil. Glitch shook his head, shot her a half-glare, then let it fade into a devilish smirk. "Which means, Princess, that I can start pulling out new tricks and not have any regrets."

She groaned. "Aw, come on — I was just starting to catch up with you!"

"Haha — nice try, doll, but I think not," he tutted, expertly flicking the blade away and settling it on the ground between his feet, both hands resting upon its pommel. "You've got a long way yet before you can catch up to me!"

She huffed, her momentary pride stomped on like a pesky bug. "Water break?"

Glitch appeared to consider, a frown tugging his lips downwards. She pulled off her mask, leaving hair plastered to her face — the darn thing stank even worse now — and gave him her biggest blue doe eyes, silently pleading. Much as he tried to remain stoic, Glitch stifled a chuckle, tapping one foot as he shook his head.

"Oh, all right. But hurry up — you're not getting out of this!"

"Yeah, yeah," she waved him off, dropping both weapon and mask on the ground to head for a pitcher sitting on a chair nearby. Servants normally brought Glitch a tray of food and water when he holed himself up in the workshop, and she had no idea where the tray itself — or the snacks and silverware — had run away to by now. At any rate, the water looked like it had sat on the chair for a while, and was lukewarm besides. DG, unperturbed, placed a hand on the side of the metal before blowing onto it, a golden glow twinkling on her breath before a dense frost of condensation appeared on the pitcher, clouding the silver into a dull grey. Raw whistled with approval, patting DG on the back as he approached with a cup. Who knew where he'd found it, but at least it looked clean.

"Thanks, Raw," she took it gratefully, filling it with the now-chilled water and gulping it down.

"DG fight well," he remarked proudly. "Work hard last few weeks."

"I guess so, but Glitch is right; I'm nowhere near as good as he is."

"Bad to expect this. Takes time. Glitch train many years." The smallest of reprimands colored the Viewer's tone, making DG flush with embarrassment. He was right, of course, but it didn't make the sting of losing hurt any less.

He watched her for a moment until his ear flicked, picking up Glitch's voice. DG heard it too, and peered over Raw's shoulder to see Cain speaking in hushed tones with the royal advisor. The Tin Man looked halfway between amused and peeved, while Glitch's face betrayed sheepishness she never saw unless his zipper came open.

"What are they saying?" DG asked Raw, knowing his hearing could pick up a lot more than hers. Raw hesitated, unsure whether to help her eavesdrop, and gave in reluctantly.

"Cain asking Glitch why he not tell him about DG's accident."

"Accident?" her eyebrows curled downwards with puzzlement. "Wait, you mean when Az's dream knocked me into a half-coma?"

He nodded grimly, idly adjusting the clawed gloves on his hands. "Remember Glitch not there when you wake up?"

"Well… now that you mention it, sure, but…" She honestly hadn't given much thought to it before, but when had Glitch not stayed by her side, or fought to get there, when danger threatened? It troubled her now, and doing so made her head begin to pound anew. She cursed under her breath and Raw sensed her confusion easily, filling in the blanks readily now.

"Glitch unhappy DG hurt. DG call it… 'flip out,' yes?" he grunted. "Glitch flip out. Want to help but can't. Make hard for Raw to sense. Queen told him go away until calm. Glitch not return. Probably not calm still."

Realization dawned, and she felt awful for even considering that her friend might have been too busy to come and see her. Glitch the worrywart actually had to be _kicked out_ of the room so that she could rest and Raw could watch over her. She let herself be marginally amused by imagining her mother giving him a metaphorical boot to the rear. Or was it her father? Yeah, Ahamo would more than likely have grabbed Glitch by the ear and taken him outside for a "man" chat to spare her mother the stomach lining.

But that left the question of Cain, and DG found it even more odd that the Tin Man hadn't even been_ aware_ of her condition at all. It was incredibly unlike him, and a swell of… something… filled her at that notion. Why _hadn't_ he known?

Raw noticed this, and stepped into her line of sight again, breaking the death glare she tried to give the Tin Man. "No angry at Cain."

Her blue gaze twisted to meet his gentle brown one, and when the Viewer didn't elaborate, DG let out an impatient sigh. "Well?"

Before he could reply, both Glitch and Cain approached them, expressions nearly unreadable. A silence followed where they looked at one another like equally guilty schoolchildren, shuffling and adjusting their clothing, weapons, or whatever happened to be handy to take their attention away from their thoughts.

Glitch finally opened his mouth to say something, closed it, considering, and then tried again. "Ready, DG?" he asked lamely, making a face as soon as he said it.

She sighed, placing her cup next to the water pitcher. "Yeah, sure. Just don't bruise me too badly today, okay?"

"Wouldn't dream of it!" only half of his usual mirth made it into the declaration, drawing a grunt from Cain.

"That pigsticker hurts?" he commented dryly. "The two of you ain't got the muscle to give it more'n a sting."

DG stared at him incredulously, trying to determine if he were teasing or serious. Considering the Tin Man's track record with humor, she could only assume the latter. "What are you trying to say, Mr. Cain?"

Another grunt. "I'm sayin' that I hope you're carrying a real weapon when it comes to the real thing, since that toothpick wouldn't do much good in a real fight."

She wasn't sure which was more insulting, the fact that he called her sword a toothpick or his none-too-subtle hint that she wasn't much more than a wispy little girl! She'd just _love_ to show him —

Glitch interrupted her mental rant by turning to face the Tin Man completely, sizing him up. Cain gave him a sideways glance, eyebrows drawn close. "What, Headcase?"

No reply: Glitch instead halfway circled him like a pacing predator, and Cain started to bristle from the attention. DG wondered whether he was having another glitchy moment.

But no, the advisor's eyes held perfect clarity as they lit up and refocused on DG. "You know what, Cain? I think it might be time to give a more _active_ demonstration my teaching abilities with DG."

"Huh?" she had no idea where this was going, and Raw stood beside her, squinting as he tried to read the advisor. Then, out of the blue, the Viewer chuckled, covering his mouth quickly.

"Crazy," was all he said, but it appeared to give Glitch added confidence despite that both princess and Tin Man stared between them suspiciously.

"What're you talking about?" Cain growled, fingers twitching, but Glitch didn't pay any attention, instead walking over to the rack of weapons and picking up a rather nasty-looking saber with a long blade and blunted — though still potentially painful — edge.

"Whether he knows it or not, DG," he explained as he tested the tensile strength of the weapon, "Cain has brought up an excellent point, no pun intended."

"Which is…?"

"Not all opponents will have achieved your level of training. In fact, they may not know how to use a sword at all, except for swinging the sharp and pointy end towards their target. Effective, and dangerous, but completely outside anything you've learned thus far."

"I don't think I like where this is going," DG said slowly, taking a step backwards and brushing damp bangs from her forehead.

"Oh, you won't!" Glitch answered far too cheerfully, promptly turning the blade around and handing it pommel-first to the Tin Man, who stared at it as if it were a cobra with five heads.

"You can't be serious." Cain's response was a statement, not a question, and nowhere near amused. DG echoed the sentiment with a strangled yelp, her jaw dropping.

"_NO WAY! _I am SO not getting in the ring with that guy!"

Cain shook himself, then half-turned to her, clearly annoyed. "Like you'd have a fighting chance, Princess. Glitch, reset your brain cells because I ain't doin' this."

"Sure you are," he assured, opening the Tin Man's hand for him and firmly placing the saber inside of it. "You see, you hold it like this—"

"I said no, dammit!" Cain dropped the weapon, shaking his hand like the metal had burned it. "This is stupid!"

"Cain, listen." Glitch approached carefully, palms out in a placating gesture. "Think about how lucky we've been that no serious attempts have been made on her life in the past few weeks." Cain processed that, and nodded for him to continue.

"What if someone came at her who fought like you — like a street brawler —" he ignored the grunt of indignation from the Tin Man, "—with a sword?"

DG thought about that and began to answer for Cain. "I'd…" she trailed off, her gaze dropping to her feet. "I honestly have no idea." She sighed, scuffing her foot against the floor with the tip of her toe. "He's right, Cain."

"I still don't like it," Cain frowned deeply, stepping towards DG and grasping her elbow. "I'm supposed to be _protecting_ you, Princess, not swinging a weapon at you!"

"Would you pull your punches if you taught me to fistfight?" she countered, raising her head to fix him with a determined gaze. "Well?"

His expression softened slightly. "That's different, darlin'."

"How?"

"It's just different! You might get hurt!"

"I'm wearing at least three inches of padding in all the places that count, Cain. It's not like I'm sooo incredibly breakable."

"That's not—"

She smirked at him suddenly. "Oh, I get it. You just don't wanna look like an idiot swinging that thing. Particularly when I kick your tin butt all over the strip."

"My tin…?!" he looked to Raw and Glitch for help, and found nothing except their grinning faces as they attempted — barely — to hold back their laughter. DG had already returned to the strip and picked up her mask, holding it under one arm as she gave Cain a smart salute with her weapon.

"You coming, Tin Man?" she stuck her tongue out at him. "I'll even let you keep the bigger sword, if it helps you feel more comfortable."

"Cain let her talk like that?" Raw teased, and Glitch finally released a snorting snicker, holding a padded jacket out for Cain. The Tin Man, still staring at DG, let his features fall into his normal mask of dispassion, snatching the jacket out of Glitch's hand and, shucking his duster onto a nearby chair, shoved his hands through the canvas arms and zipped it up smartly on the left side. Not waiting for help, he snatched a larger mask from the rack and replaced his hat with it, clearly fighting the urge to comment about its distinctive smell. DG could relate, grimacing slightly at the marvelous perfume of her own headgear.

Frankly, she was surprised that he even accepted the offer of protective gear, considering his ego, and felt a motherly sense of pride that he had. Her smirk widened.

"My tin butt, huh?" he grumbled, the sound ridiculously muffled through the mask. "Kiddo, you really know how to push buttons." He pulled on a glove and picked up the saber he'd dropped to the ground, approaching the strip with dangerous slowness.

"That's good, if it gets you fighting," she shot back, coming on guard and snapping him quickly on the wrist. He froze, somewhat startled by the slight pain, drawing a giggle from the Princess.

"Come on!" She advanced one step, flicking him on the shoulder this time. Cain looked so awkward in the fencing getup it was hard for her to not burst out laughing right there, but she channeled most of that into her focus, hoping to draw him more off his guard. He held the saber more like a club, she observed, gripping it with a tight fist and a locked elbow, not sure whether to keep it held up or dropped low. She could use that.

"I can hurt you with this thing," he hedged despite his annoyance.

"Uh-huh, I see that. I'm _really_ intimidated by the human statue strategy."

"DG—" Glitch warned, crossing his arms and giving her a fulminating reprimand. "Don't get cocky."

"Damn straight!" Cain agreed before he wound up and gave a big swing of the saber, aiming for the middle of her weapon mid-flick. She retreated with a flash, pleased to finally get a reaction, and tested him again, lunging towards the opposite shoulder. He swung again, and her tip ducked under the swing, landing squarely against his ribs.

Cain gave the slightest wince before he could stop himself, and Glitch smirked.

"You know, Cain, according to studies, the only thing faster than a fencing blade upon contact is a pistol's bullet."

"I never knew that," DG called, sidestepping Cain's charge and thrusting at his exposed back. He whipped around and repeated the charge, hissing when she struck his back a second time.

Glitch attempted to direct them both, reassuming his role as instructor. "DG, don't get stuck in one strategy — be ready to shift gears as his own movements change. Cain, be _serious_ about this!"

Cain backed up, lowering the sword, letting DG try to attack him as he weaved out of the way. They did this for a while, him swinging a little less wildly each time as he tried to control the pace, she with tighter motions but playful little nips against his jacket that were as infuriating as they were fast. Just to mess with him she aimed a shot at his toes, missed with his swing, countered and tried again, finally connecting against the boot leather and leaving the slightest red scuff from the rubber tip of her foil.

"Good, DG!" Glitch appraised. "Keep moving!"

Cain shook visibly, his temper rising, though he realized that losing it would let DG win easily. Sure, a "brawler" would lose his cool, too, but there were some real jerks out there who didn't care how much a little girl picked at him, so long as it meant she wasted energy doing it. A thin-lipped smile crossed undetected beneath the mask; it was the only warning for his next action. His back foot started to move, drawing her into a lunge, and he swung sideways, knocking her blade clearly out of the way and chopping downwards, right onto her wrist.

"OW!" she yelped. Cain paused, suddenly afraid he'd seriously harmed her, leaving him completely unprepared for her counterattack. Her foot stomped soundly on the ground inches from his front foot, both sound and motion drawing him off-balance. She used the added momentum to leap back, slapping him on the hipbone as she went. It stung, but he couldn't even process that as she came at him again, arm drawn in close to her side with three quick advances. He kept his own blade close, circling around her. She followed his motion, whipping her blade against his, and he reached out with the unarmed hand to _grab_ her weapon, breaking all the rules she'd ever learned as he yanked her towards him.

DG tugged on the blade, trying in panic to free it. She looked up then, straight at his mask, the two of them so close the azure ice of his eyes burned through the mesh. Her own expression shifted to horror as she realized her mistake — _where was his weapon?_

Air whistled from above, and DG uttered a curse no Princess should know, letting go of her sword completely to drop to the ground. Instead of hitting her atop the head as intended, the saber's blade made direct contact with her collarbone, and DG's vision sparked. Red lights danced along the mask's mesh, and she growled furiously, grabbing the heavier weapon with _both_ hands and sharply twisting to Cain's outside.

A thunderous _crack_ punctuated the breaking not only of Cain's grip on it, but the blade itself. Shards of steel tumbled and rained down her uniform, too small to do any damage through the canvas, but DG took advantage of Cain's shout of surprise to regain control of her foil, still loosely held in his off hand. It remained pointed at center mass, and she used all her strength in both hands to plunge it forward into the padding of his own jacket.

She watched it fold around the padded tip, heard the Tin Man's _"oof"_ as it connected squarely into the soft spot inches above where his navel would be, and tasted pure adrenaline-laced satisfaction as he tumbled right onto his rear on the strip.

Gasping, DG shimmied backward on her hands and knees, putting distance between herself and her opponent. "Well then… guess I did put you right on your tin butt…"

"Uh-huh…" he choked out, sitting up and holding his middle. "But you're forgetting something important about any fight, Princess…"

About to answer, not a sound had left her throat before Cain leaped at her, pinning her expertly onto the ground with the shattered remains of the saber pressed flush against her protected throat. "If you have time to taunt, you have time to finish the job."

"Cain!" Glitch snapped, his voice sharper than a whip's crack. "DG! Enough!"

Both heads rose to stare at him, and froze instantly as they realized that their little "lesson" had gained more attention since they'd begun. The Queen and Ahamo stood ashen-faced at the entrance to Glitch's workshop, staring shocked at the sight of Wyatt Cain crouched menacingly over DG with a broken blade to her neck.

"Crap," the Princess bit out, not daring to look up at her friend. His weary sigh was his only reply.

* * *

_**Notes:** You guys have no idea how much fun I had writing this chapter! The fencing bit went on for longer than intended, but I wanted to set the stage for later scenes in the adventure._

_I hope I answered some of the questions from earlier chapters while leaving a bit of mystery; more plot will be addressed in chapter six. Please let me know what you think so far! I'm aiming for Wednesday or Thursday at the latest for the next installment. Until then! _

_~Mekanikora_


	6. Chapter 06 - Broken Poetry

_**Chapter 06 – Broken Poetry**_

* * *

They didn't have any time to clean up before being ushered into a small audience chamber. DG tried not to sniff her hair, knowing that it reeked of fencing mask and sweat, and grabbed a ponytail band from her pocket before twisting her long black locks into a messy bun atop her head, finally securing the band around it. Her clothes still held dark spots at the knees, elbows and around her neck from exertion, but they dried quickly once exposed to the chilled air of the palace.

Cain, she noted with some jealousy, had it much easier; all he had to do was put the hat on, though little bits of blond stubbornly peeked out from beneath the brim at his forehead.

Glitch… well, his hair always had that recently electrocuted air about it, and the dampness of sweat made it just a bit flatter against his skull, more reminiscent of Ambrose's style fifteen annuals ago.

Ahamo and the Queen had not yet entered the room, probably still conversing outside and out of earshot. DG looked at Raw, who shook his head both sternly and knowingly — even if he could, he wouldn't dare eavesdrop on the royal couple. And so the princess fidgeted as she waited, dipping her fingers beneath her t-shirt to idly rub the nasty, tender, purple and blue bruise blooming over her right collarbone. She adamantly refused to do more than frown as she did so, though the darned thing smarted so much it brought tears to her eyes. Not that she'd let them fall. Especially when the man who gave it to her stood not three feet away.

Cain caught her eye as she tried to look without success at the colorful mark, having avoided saying anything from the moment her parents had broken up their sword-brawl.

_He feels guilty,_ she guessed, giving up on seeing the thing until she found a mirror and pursing her lips with consternation. _He shouldn't. So what if I got smacked? It's not like assassins are going to hold back when they try to kill me._ The logic fit, but Cain wasn't an assassin. He was a friend… and the more DG thought about it, the more firmly entrenched another thought dug into her mind: he was easily her _best_ friend.

Oddly enough, she'd never had the opportunity in her twenty-one years — _annuals, DG, annuals — _of life to apply that term to anyone. Oh, sure, there'd been the people to run around with, the people to party with, the people to go drinking with, the people to rant to when things went wrong… but never before had she found the guts to really trust someone completely. All of the others had seen a small piece of the real DG. Cain, Raw and Glitch knew her for who she wanted to be, not simply the part of her she wanted to display.

Cain, most of all, had pushed that out of her. He tested her, made her angry, made her talk things through, guided her when she pulled some idiot stunt. _He's my best friend._

Speaking of whom, the Tin Man looked about to say something when the door opened. Expecting the Queen and Ahamo, DG squeaked with surprise when another slim, wispy figure slipped inside, forcing a shy smile on her delicate features.

"AZ!?" In two bounds DG leapt to her sister's side, hugging her tightly and kissing her cheek. "Good grief, when did you wake up? I've been so worried about you!"

"DG…" Azkadellia murmured, placing a hand gingerly on her little sister's head before promptly scrunching her nose with distaste. "You… smell awful…"

"Huh? Oh! Sorry!" she backed off some, but grasped Az's hand tightly, happy to see the familiar glow that grew from the contact. "Fencing lesson. Glitch kicked my butt. And then I kicked Cain's."

"Mr. Cain used a sword?" she asked incredulously, her eyes lifting to regard the Tin Man critically. DG grinned as he flushed ever so slightly, seemingly about to comment on her appraisal of their fight when Glitch cheerfully stomped on his foot to shut him up.

"Well, he _tried_," she drawled before turning back to her sister with an impish glint in her eye. "Not very successfully. He broke a saber."

"I did not! That was you!" Cain snapped, unable to hold back the retort. He seemed to realize just how childish that sounded, and turned to glare sullenly at Glitch as if it were his fault entirely, small red spots appearing on his cheeks.

Azkadellia looked between the two of them with no small measure of curiosity, releasing a short huff of air mildly resembling a giggle before composing herself once again. "I see."

"Are you feeling better, Princess?" Glitch called over, finally remembering to be polite and bowing belatedly at her entrance.

"I am, Ambrose, thank you. Some, at least." She rubbed her head in an uncanny mirror of DG's own movements not an hour earlier. "I've been told that my… recent condition has worn greatly on my spirit and body." She sighed, glancing back over her shoulder after a moment. "They're coming inside now."

Right on cue, Ahamo and the Queen entered the room arm-in-arm, and the three non-royals bowed deeply to them with respect.

"My thanks," the Queen nodded stiffly, the motion drawing them obediently upright again. They approached the Princesses and their parents, creating a sort of diamond formation behind them. Cain stood at the center of said formation, where he could see and hear everything in the room. The other two were equally watchful, and the simple knowledge of their solidarity and friendship gave DG a warm, safe feeling. As long as they stood with her, she knew, they could take on anything. Even the whole O.Z., if they had to.

_Famous last words._ DG shivered as though someone had walked over her grave.

The Queen gave a silent greeting to each of her youngest daughter's friends, the piercing lavender gaze lingering just a moment longer on Cain, her expression unreadable. DG made a face she didn't bother to hide; her mother had taken her aside for an earful about "reckless behavior" earlier, and appeared to have placed at least part of the blame on the Tin Man. But then those eyes fell on DG, and the youngest princess schooled her face into something a bit more reverent, forcing her indignation into a little mental pocket for a later moment. It was hard to do.

Ahamo cleared his throat to gain everyone's attention, giving a tired smile — more a grimace, really, and who could blame him?

"Cain, Raw, Ambrose, as the three closest to the Princesses and the ones who know the most about… well, the situation leading up to and following the double eclipse, we thought it prudent to include all of you in this conversation."

Silence grew to tangible levels. So tangible DG felt like reaching out and trying to touch it. And so she did, reaching out with a finger to poke idly at the air behind her back, twirling it around as if to wrap the soundlessness around her finger like a taffy vendor at the county fair. She stopped only when Azkadellia started to watch her movements with confusion, only a tilt of her head outwardly indicating anything was amiss so their parents wouldn't notice.

"Deege?" she whispered.

"Haha… sorry," she hissed back, pleased that their parents hadn't noticed the antics.

"DG?"

The princess lurched, memories of being randomly called on in class while in the middle of a detailed doodle coming back to her. She inwardly winced at the apt metaphor, courtesy of memories from math class. _This fumble in attention is brought to you by the letter "oops."_

"Erm… yes, Ahamo?"

Even after a couple of months, she still hadn't gotten used to calling her parents "Mother" and "Father." Unlike Azkadellia, DG had lived for a long time without the memories of the time before Kansas, and even when they had been restored, she felt like an intruder in someone else's life. The memories felt like a home movie someone showed her one night: something about which she knew all the details and emotions and expressions, but hadn't really been _there_ for it.

That bad student feeling grew when Ahamo fixed her with an exasperated glance, but he numbed the sting with a cluck of his tongue. "I pity your Tutor, DG."

"So do I, sometimes," she admitted. Her father gave her a lopsided grin.

"Dear," the Queen cut in now with uncharacteristic impatience, all too ready to finish the conversation and go one with her day. "Please tell us again what you saw when you connected with Azkadellia's dreams."

"Which was stupid, by the way," Az herself murmured out of the corner of her mouth.

"Shut up," DG muttered back, a little less inconspicuously. But she coughed quickly to try and hide the comment. "I heard a voice repeat the Emerald's Prophecy."

"The prophecy?" Cain roused himself from silence, clearly interested. "I thought that was done with now that the eclipse is over and we got the emerald back."

"Not quite, Mr. Cain," the Queen shook her head, squeezing her husband's arm for support. "We thought so, too, at first, but after hearing about DG's dream, we went to investigate for ourselves."

"What do you mean, Mother?" Az piped up, her hand snaking down to grab DG's. The emerald and everything to do with it still frightened her, no thanks to the Witch's fifteen annuals of obsession with it.

"We visited the vault where the Emerald of the Eclipse is kept under guard for now… until it can be returned to the Grey Gale. _If_ it can be returned…" she paused, and DG felt a ripple of shock as her mother started to bite her lip, and then quickly thought better of it.

_Now I know where I get it,_ she mused.

Ahamo continued for his wife. "The emerald no longer shines. It flickers almost lifelessly, as though the magic inside it had become unstable. Your mother tried to touch it, and it nearly burned her fingers when she approached."

"What? Why would it do that?" DG asked with puzzlement. "It never did anything like that with me!"

"No, of course not, firecracker. Until the emerald was claimed by the rightful heir to the throne at the eve of the eclipse, it would shine and add its power to either of the two destined princesses."

Az and DG turned to one another, both frowning, both clearly uncomfortable. Without any words, the memories of that fateful night passed between them, their interpretations of how events had played out completely identical.

"Az had the emerald when the eclipse came," DG affirmed aloud. "That's why you guys insisted on making her the heir to the O.Z. and passing the rite of succession to her."

"That's not the entire reason," Ahamo hedged, "but you've got the right idea. We all saw Az with the emerald that night… but the fact that the prophecy still haunts us means that something must have gone wrong."

"Why do you say that, Daddy?" Az's brown eyes darkened. Ahamo closed his own eyes, chin dropping slightly with weariness.

"Because the dreams — what you've told me of them — all lead back to that moment of the eclipse, and the prophecy. The fact that it continues to be recited so strongly in the subconscious minds of two powerful mages like yourselves holds the clue."

A startling realization struck DG then, her hand tightening over her sister's. "Wait… so does that mean that something's wrong with the succession? Because the prophecy messed up?"

"Messed up, DG?" Glitch inquired, nodding for her to go on. She stared blankly at her friend, the ideas and cogs working furiously in her mind. What could have gone wrong? What part of the prophecy had not been satisfied? The words dropped from her lips without thinking, her tone oddly dead as it rambled through the rhyming couplets:

"_The Majestic Queen of the O.Z. _

_Had two lovely daughters she_

_One to darkness she be drawn_

_One to light she be shown…"_

"That part's right," someone commented, maybe Cain. Too gruff and grumpy for anyone else. But DG no longer paid attention, mentally agreeing but looking at the puzzle from as many angles as she could manage, like she was trying to fix the finicky windmills at home. All she had to do was move the pieces around enough and the silhouette would be clear, and she could then fill in the middle. Simple, right?

"_Double eclipse it is foreseen_

_Light meets dark and the Stone is between…"_

"Sisters meant to fight?" the question had definitely come from Raw, the words almost a moan of pity. Still DG murmured on, feeling close to the answer.

"_But only one and one alone_

_Will hold the Emerald and take the throne_

_Only one and one alone…_

"-that's it!" she slapped her fist into an open palm, nodding. "That's what went wrong!" Without waiting for anyone to ask, DG explained as much as she understood. "The last three lines very clearly hint that one of us — Az and I, being the sisters of legend or whatever — had to hold the emerald at the double eclipse."

"I did," Az said slowly, but her sister pointed a finger at her.

"No, actually. You didn't. _The Witch did._"

"Wait, what now?" Ahamo gaped, thunderstruck. "Could it be that simple?"

"Sure it can. Yes, Az technically held it, but the moment the eclipse hit, the _Witch_ was the one holding the emerald, the _Witch_ channeling its power. Through Az's body, yes, but she wasn't using Az's light, but her own darker powers channeled through her soul… or anti-soul… whatever. The fact is, _neither_ of us had it until after the eclipse passed, and at that point we held it _together."_

Silence fell again as everyone in the room struggled to process that information. DG felt tired suddenly, the events of a long and exciting day beginning to take its toll on her. First the magic lesson, then her descent into the nightmare, fencing, and now this… she used her free hand to rub at her eyes, feeling her nerves fray into a dull, tingly numbness. Sweat had made her clothes itchy and clingy on her skin, her hair stank, the bruise on her shoulder _hurt_, she felt hungry and thirsty and she _never_ wanted to look at an emerald ever _again… _and _no,_ she did _not_ want any cheese with her wine, thank you.

_Darn it, someone has to ask about the flying pink polka-dotted elephant in the room!_ With that disturbing image giving her the oddest type of courage, DG blurted out the first thing to pop into her head.

"So, I'm guessing Az and I have to duke it out now?"

* * *

_**Notes:** I know this one is shorter than usual – don't hurt me! I wanted to make a couple of major and minor plot points clear here in order to make a smooth transition into the "big adventure" part of the story. _

_If any of you out there are familiar with the archetypal "hero's journey," consider this the "call to adventure." Rather, an interpretation thereof... since the call technically came earlier on when DG went dream-diving..._

_Hope you liked it – I enjoy feedback and hearing your thoughts and ideas, so please don't be shy about reviewing or even PMing me. Next update... maybe this weekend? _

_~Mekanikora_


	7. Chapter 07 - The Green Debate

_**Chapter 07 – The Green Debate**_

* * *

Azkadellia, first to recover from DG's outburst, reared back and sliced the air in front of her with a gloved hand. Darkness fell over her face, brown eyes flat and full of fury.

"Az—" Ahamo reached out to try and calm his eldest daughter, but she stepped back with gritted teeth.

"No!" she cried. "I refuse. The Emerald no longer guides me and my actions. I will _not_ defer to a mere prophecy, fulfilled or not, and I will _not fight my sister again!_"

The silence following the proclamation seemed to instantly dim all light in the room; six pairs of eyes had settled on Azkadellia, weighing her impassioned actions with measured suspicion and no small amount of fear. The Queen had recoiled instinctively, clutching her husband's arm, and Ahamo's brows had drawn close as he studied Azkadellia carefully.

_What's wrong with them? _It felt as though they expected the Witch to begin cackling through Azkadellia's body again, never banished in the eclipse. At least, that was how it felt to DG, who moved quickly to her sister's side and grasped her hand tightly. She made sure to glare at her parents fixedly, showing solidarity with her estranged sibling and soothing her with calming words.

"I know, Az. I'm with you. We're not really going to fight… I'm sorry I made the joke."

"I won't do it, Deege," her sister whispered hurriedly, like a caged animal. "I'd abdicate before I had to go through that again."

"Don't talk like that. We're going to figure this out. Right, Dad? Mother?"

Ahamo and the Queen shook themselves, together taking shaky breaths and nodding. Glitch pursed his lips, more concerned than afraid as he glanced between the sisters over and over.

"I think, Majesty, that we need to call a council on this. Bring in what ministers we can now, and send for the rest to join us as they can."

"To what end, Ambrose?" the Queen asked, relieved that he had smoothly returned logic to their discussion.

"To determine our next move. If, in fact, the succession is now in question, we have to once again decide which of the princesses will be named heir, and gain the support of the people."

"Glitch, we can't do that," DG cut in, stepping in front of Azkadellia protectively. "She's the heir. Mother said so after the eclipse, and went through all of the diplomatic hoops and jumps to make it official. We can't change things now."

"But the Emerald itself is in flux. It hasn't chosen," Ahamo reminded them, but Azkadellia spoke up in her own defense.

"Perhaps so, but no one outside of this circle knows that. Aside from DG and myself, there were no witnesses to our battle with the Witch. The people of the O.Z. will have to take us at our word as to whom the emerald chose."

"That's a good point, Az, and it takes care of a lot of the problem. The rest of it… well, until we figure out what needs fixing, we wait and pretend as though nothing was wrong." DG crossed her arms, daring anyone to refute her logic, but no one did. Instead, Cain inclined his head in tacit agreement, taking the last word in the discussion.

"Glitch, I like your idea to get the brainiacs together to find a solution. Until they come to some sort of decision, things should stay as they are, and we all go about our business."

Everyone agreed. Noting more needed to be said… for now.

* * *

The door stood motionless and unwelcoming before her, a quickly scrawled sign hastily pasted firmly stating to not enter without invitation, but the slightest glint of light showed that the occupant hadn't closed it completely. It wasn't like Cain to forget those kinds of details… but then, Cain hadn't been acting much like himself of late. DG's fingers curled around the hand-worked silver handle, the metal cold beneath her skin.

Initially, she thought that the promotion and its responsibilities had been getting to him. Though no sign of hesitation had shown when the Queen had granted Cain this position of honor, all who had known him best — Jeb, DG, Glitch and Raw — understood that as a man of action, he despised the idea of sitting on the sidelines. Even so, he had seemingly thrown himself into the work of organizing the Tin Men, creating reports, setting up training exercises and interviewing new recruits. He'd taken several trips to Central City in the past several weeks, often overnight or simply without warning when a dispatch arrived… enough to make DG worry about his well-being.

And then those trips, almost weekly at one point, had stopped altogether. Cain then spent his time in the little office he'd been temporarily assigned in the palace, on the same level as Glitch's workshop, but a different wing. He asked for nothing but peace and quiet and sometimes sent for old records and maps, no one knowing what he worked on but not gathering enough nerve to ask. For days at a time Cain remained in the office, that stupid sign warning off both friend and foe. After a few tries at poking around and being incredibly nosy, DG eventually gave up trying to get answers out of him; whatever he worked on, he didn't want anyone else involved. Unfortunately for Cain, DG didn't like being on the outside loop of things, and felt that he owed her some answers.

_Namely, where the hell was he when I got knocked out cold?_ A flash of anger splashed red across her cheeks, and she took a deep breath to clear her head. Going in there with guns blazing wouldn't do any good with Wyatt Cain, either literally or metaphorically.

Through the crack in the door she heard a muffled curse, and something heavy like a book thumped onto the ground. She bit her lip to keep from giggling, anger temporarily evaporating; she decided that she may as well enter now, while Cain was momentarily distracted.

She pushed the door open just enough to allow him to see half of her face. Blue eyes sparkled and crinkled with mischief as her lips curled into the widest grin she could manage, teeth partially bared. DG cocked her head to one side, drumming her fingers along the doorframe as she murmured in a low, almost purring voice: _"Eeevening, Cuh-missioner…"_

Cain glanced up, giving his visitor the most withering look he could manage with a pen tapping against his chin. He looked way too engrossed in whatever mundane task he happened to find himself working on, so she carried the gag further, not caring that he never saw the movie. Or knew what a "movie" was, for that matter.

"Why so _serious?"_ she tried to cackle, but coughed as dust from the room clogged her throat, completely ruining her performance.

_Drat._

Completely unmoved, Cain continued to stare at her, though the pen dropped to the incredibly messy desk to tap on some miraculously uncovered piece of wood. He ran a hand through his hair, and DG noticed for the first time that the famous hat wasn't sitting on his head; it hung from the corner of a stack of books on a shelf within arm's reach. She supposed it blocked the light of an already dark room when he wore it, but it was rare to actually see his hair for more than a few seconds at a time. Maybe it was the lamplight, but the golden color actually seemed almost strawberry blond. Interesting.

"What's up, kid?" was the flippant greeting he gave, not bothering to acknowledge the strange way in which she'd addressed him.

"Aww, you're no fun," DG stuck her tongue out at him, letting herself into his office and searching immediately for a place to perch. Unfortunately, Cain occupied the only chair, and just about every other surface was covered with papers, books or something resembling old files. Definitely un-Cain-like, these things, she decided.

_No wonder he's so grouchy._

He sighed, leaning back slightly into his chair, and the light hit the tiny crow's feet forming at the edges of his eyes, reminding DG of the Tin Man's age. She'd known how old he was, of course, but it never seemed apparent until now, when he sat around doing _paperwork_ instead of leading people into — or out of — battle. He wasn't made for this. So why had he taken the job at all?

But she didn't ask that. She didn't dare… not yet, at least. The conversation she'd planned sat laid out like the old brick route in her head, and all she had to do was follow it.

"So… big revelations and all happening today," she muttered lamely, her forced smile lopsided.

Cain gazed at her for a moment more before halfheartedly looking down at the paperwork once more. "Yeah. Sounds like you've got a lot going on."

"Uh-huh." She _so_ didn't buy the 'I'm too busy to care' act. "It's crazy, how things got messed up, you know? I thought things were over and done with, and we could get on with our lives… or whatever we could piece together from them."

"Mmm." The pen scratched something unintelligible onto the yellowed paper.

"I mean, this stupid prophecy, right? Now there's a problem with the succession, my parents are locked in a room with their ministers and soothsayers or whatever trying to work this all out—" she stopped mid-sentence, realizing that she'd begun to pace the room as she'd ranted. She turned her head, noting that Cain had all but ignored her entire spiel, looking now at an old map of the OZ with a frown.

"Uh-huh?" he muttered, and DG felt that temper of hers flash again. She _really_ wanted a sword in her hand at that moment, but settled instead for a verbal barb.

"I'm sorry, am I disturbing your all-important job thing?"

Cain didn't seem to register the dangerous pitch her voice had taken, too engrossed in his task. DG twitched, one hand clenching into a fist. Nix the planned conversation — in all its incarnations, she certainly hadn't expected him to completely _ignore_ her!

"Cain."

"…" _Skritch-skritch_ went the pen in broad strokes, and he turned his attention to a book sitting open to his right, resting precariously against an old set of binoculars. Which really, _really_ pissed her off now. She opened her mouth to say something, closed it with a click, and made the decision to take a more direct approach. She opened her hand and glared down at it, shifting so that a point of light appeared just above her palm. Then, like a child focusing the lens of a magnifying glass upon an unsuspecting ant, she let the dot flare into a small golden flame. It danced over her palm, reaching eagerly towards the papers spread throughout the room. It spoke to her greedily, asking to feed upon those multitudes of fuel and energy, but she soothed it with a silent thought into complacency, watching it still to a slow flicker.

Aiming at the unlit lamp near Cain's head, DG raised her palm to her lips and let herself exhale on the tiny flame, impishly watching it spin into the lamp and set it alight with a hiss. Cain jumped at the sudden brightness next to his face, a string of curses ejecting from between his teeth before he could completely bite them off again.

"DG—" he began in earnest, but the youngest princess cut him off.

"Do I have your attention now?" she asked quietly, and she watched the irritation melt from his face, leaving a more sullen (but apologetic) expression in its place. The pen dropped entirely from his hand, and the Tin Man rose, his hands spread in a placating gesture.

"DG," he tried again, but no other sound emerged. He'd shifted from looking stern and formidable to completely miserable in the span of seconds, and DG wondered if he even noticed he'd done so.

She wanted to tell him that she'd had a really bad day and that she worried so much about what might be coming next and her shoulder hurt and she wanted to hit him or anybody with a sword some more and the Emerald was stupid and the Witch was even stupider and it was all so very unfair… but she didn't say any of it. Instead, she slumped, her eyes watering with hot tears of weariness and fear. The vulnerability she hated showing anyone else always seem to come out in front of Cain, and she didn't bother hiding it any more now that he was there.

"I don't know what happens now, Cain," she murmured, dropping her gaze at last. She heard him shuffling around the desk, his hand reaching for her shoulder. "I don't know what to do."

"It'll be okay, Princess," he tried to reassure, all gruffness gone. "The Queen and Ahamo will figure out what to do. This isn't the first prophecy the O.Z.'s had to work through."

"Yeah, but I bet it's the first one that got botched in the fulfillment," she argued, wiping her eyes with a sleeve. The hand on her shoulder squeezed gently, his thumb running along the seam of her jacket.

"Might be. You never did make anything easy for yourself, DG." The smallest hint of amusement colored these words, making her look up at him. To her surprise, Cain smiled down at her; not a full smile that anyone would recognize, mind you, but just the slightest curl of one side of his mouth, a slight narrowing of his eyes betrayed it. It was a rare thing, that smile, but it always made her feel better to see it.

"You did good working out the flaw in the prophecy, though," he continued. "Mighta been weeks before the old soothsayers had it figured out. You did it in all of, what, two minutes?"

"But what now?" she repeated her earlier question with a shake of her head. "I did what I did during the eclipse to _avoid_ fighting Az for the throne. I'm _fine_ with her taking over the O.Z.… as herself, I mean. I don't want there to be some kind of turf war."

"That may be, but people may rally to you simply because you're the one who stopped the Witch. They don't trust Azkadellia, DG."

"But I _know_ her, Cain! She's a completely different person now!"

"And she might've just as easily put you and your parents under a hypnotic trance so you could spin a story just like that."

DG glowered at him, but understood his meaning. "I'm the Court Sor— I'm supposed to support Az. I'm not going to be Queen," she stated firmly, resolute.

"Were this any other succession, kiddo, I'd agree with you. But for some reason, the Emerald's messin' it all up. And as the source of a lot of the O.Z.'s magic, we've gotta go where it leads us and accept the answer it gives."

She stared at him for a long time, her expression growing slowly unfocused. Then, the clouds seemed to blow away from her face and she beamed at him full force, her hand covering his on her shoulder.

"Wyatt Cain, you're a _genius!_ Why didn't I think of that?"

He blinked at her, completely confused. "Huh?"

"You're exactly right! We should go where the Emerald leads to find our answers — we have to go to the source of the prophecy!" And with that, DG whirled and scampered out of the office, leaving papers and curtains billowing and fluttering in her wake. Cain stared after her in complete bewilderment, his hand resting on the empty air only recently filled by the princess's shoulder.

"Huh?" he asked again of no one.

* * *

Ahamo, an honest man, knew that these discussions wouldn't go well from the moment the Queen announced her daughter's revelation. As an honest man, he would say now that "not going well" was about as accurate as saying that a fertilizer vendor peddled horse puckey to the unwary. _Understatement of the annual._

The bickering made his head hurt, and he did his best — at his wife's behest — to not get involved. As Consort, he had tremendous weight to carry and throw around as he pleased, but as a non-magic user, his expertise in such things as prophecies and succession of the Gale line remained entirely too limited, and thus nearly worthless to these people.

_Vultures, really,_ he mused, looking at each of the advisors in turn. Out of all of them, he only trusted Ambrose… now affectionately known by his friends as Glitch. Even without his brain he could hold an incredibly complex conversation with several people at once, a feat that often dazzled Ahamo and gained his respect. Oh, that had been grudging at first, for Ambrose had been a pompous and arrogant man in his heyday, but his pure loyalty to the Queen had just balanced those lesser qualities with ease in the Consort's mind. Further, the advisor had never thought of Ahamo as unworthy for the Queen by being a Slipper; to Ambrose, anyone whom the Queen implicitly trusted could thus be trusted by anyone in the realm. Unique in that way, the sentiment had earned him enemies at court, but also gained him the implicit trust and ear of the Royal Family, which he used wisely and judiciously.

The Queen spoke now, and Ahamo tuned back in, hoping no one had caught his momentary lapse in attention.

"My lords, please calm yourselves and remain focused on the task at hand. Is there any precedent to explain the Emerald of the Eclipse's behavior?"

One advisor, a scholar of at least eighty annuals — none of which had been kind — cleared his throat and gave a phlegmy cough before answering. "Majesty, the Emerald has not been _seen_ by anyone in the realm for at least five generations of your family, and a large portion of records from that time were destroyed by the great Firefloods of Finaqua fifty-seven annuals past. Even with them, we cannot say whether any precedent was set then, or even before. The Emerald is the stuff of legend!"

Another weasely-looking man with a high-pitched voice cut in abruptly, much to Ahamo's annoyance. "Of course it is — the Emerald is the source for much of the O.Z.'s power! It is only to be used in times of great strife! Majesty, we _must_ restore balance to the realm by giving it back to the Grey Gale!"

"What would that solve?" Glitch asked pointedly, arms crossed as he paced around the table. "Yes, the original plan was to return it to the Grey Gale, but what then? What if the power of the Emerald is indeed fading? What does that signify to the Gale bloodline and the fate of the O.Z.?"

"You read too much into this, Ambrose," the first scholar scoffed, not bothering to hide his sneer of contempt. "For a man without his brain, you think far too deeply."

Glitch turned on his heel to give the man a piece of his mind, but Ahamo had heard enough, slamming a fist on the table, surprising even his gentle wife.

"I have heard enough! Gentlemen, you _will_ maintain your professionalism at this table. Is that understood?" At a nod from both advisors, he let the tension drain from his figure. "All right then. Let us go what we know—"

Before the Consort could finish, the door to the council chamber burst open, revealing DG with her light blazing, two distressed but frightened guards cowering behind her. Ahamo watched in shock as his youngest child entered the room. She exuded a complete confidence he'd never before seen her display in front of anyone, let alone these… what did she call them… ah yes: these "old fat dorks" who often belittled her for being a Slipper child. Her light surrounded her as a golden aura as she strode forward, making her eyes seem eerily silver as they settled on her parents' faces.

"I need to speak with the Grey Gale again, and I need to take the Emerald with me."

The uproar caused by those two brief statements could likely be heard all the way in Central City. Ahamo marveled at the sheer volume of protest his daughter had created, and looked on with immense pride as DG raised a hand to silence them soundlessly, continuing as though the interruption had never occurred.

"The Grey Gale entrusted the Emerald to me. She had said that it was 'in my hands now.' But, because of me, the prophecy was not fulfilled like it should, so I need to be the one to return it to her. If I can, I want to ask her how to fix things."

"Send the Princess on some fool's errand? Preposterous!" the elderly scholar sniffed, drawing DG's full attention.

"I don't remember asking for your opinion," she warned, the ice lining her voice colder and sharper than the icicles of a glacier. The man shrank back into his chair, babbling a meek request for forgiveness before falling completely quiet.

Ahamo hid his amusement by addressing DG with a slight bow of deference, drawing a slight smile of approval from his wife, who squeezed his knee under the council table. "Councilmen, please excuse us. We will reconvene in two hours."

When all members of the council save Glitch had reluctantly exited into the anteroom, completely atwitter with whispers of royal madness and conspiracy, Ahamo asked her, "Are you sure about this, DG? Even though you've learned the location of the Grey Gale, the O.Z. is no safer now than it was when you first arrived."

"I know. I don't plan on going alone."

"I thought not. But even so, the danger to you out there is much higher now that rogue pockets of Long Coats have been reported throughout the realm."

"Okay, and? Look, would you really trust anyone else to do this job?"

"That's not the point. You're our daughter and you've already—"

"Ahamo. Dad," she corrected, standing firm, "Whether or not I've 'done enough' is beside the point. According to legends or whatever, only those of the Gale line can even touch the Emerald at all without any side effects. Which means that only Mother, Az and I could make the journey at all."

"Azkadellia could make an official pilgrimage—"

"Would anyone actually trust her?" she interjected, hating herself for even saying it aloud and even more for using it as a point of argument. "Imagine being a citizen of the O.Z. seeing the Sorceress herself carrying the Emerald of the Eclipse. Cue national freakout…"

Ahamo scowled, not wanting to admit that she was entirely right. His wife certainly couldn't afford to go on the journey, weak as she was and already in a tenuous position with the government. She had to reaffirm her own role as ruler, confirm her successor and maintain faith in the succession. And if both she and Az couldn't go… it left only DG. He knew it, and he hated that he knew it, but the truth rang in his mind.

"I don't like it," he muttered, almost under his breath. "It's dangerous, you're still training in defense and magic, and you're already a well-known target to the Long Coats."

"It's just a short trip to the Grey Gale, then I'm back home again."

_Life is never that easy. Or simple,_ he thought, but didn't voice those fears, looking now to his wife for guidance. She leveled her lavender gaze at DG, but her words were soft and, to his utter surprise, completely supportive.

"You may choose whomever you wish to join you, DG," the Queen replied smoothly, making certain to show her approval while still highlighting her husband's caution. "As Princess, you have that right. I must advise you, however, to remain watchful and be swift. Keep in constant communication with us so that if we must send reinforcements, we can with haste."

Ahamo studied the Queen worriedly, unsure why she had so readily agreed to place their daughter in danger yet again for the sake of their family and the O.Z. But she only gave him a sad smile, begging his understanding for not only herself, but also for that headstrong daughter who fought for her family. He suddenly remembered another such girl who gave her life force and her magic to save one that she loved… a great gamble which might have failed, but in the end saved them all.

The Consort sighed, and nodded his consent at last. "All right, DG. How can we help?"

* * *

_**Notes: **Hello everyone. I hope I haven't made you wait too long for this chapter – it's been a busy holiday for me! The journey begins at last in the next installment, at which point we'll be switching between several points of view from DG's._

_I wanted to work a bit with Ahamo's perspective here primarily since I don't see too many writers doing so, and also because I think he's a fabulous character to explore. I have potentially interesting plans for him later in this story; we'll see how it all works out. _

_P.S. – I was sorely tempted to write the part with Cain and DG from Cain's perspective, but I think a lot of the humor would have been lost had I done so. Especially the Joker gag. I blame my husband for that little gem – as soon as I told him what Cain's official position was, he started cracking all these Commissioner Gordon and Batman jokes. So blame him =) _

_~Mekanikora_


	8. Chapter 08 - A Party Assembled

_**Chapter 08 – A Party Assembled**_

* * *

"DG, wait up!" Glitch called, increasing his pace to keep up with her. She'd left the council chambers almost immediately following her parents' blessing of the upcoming journey, clearly eager to get going and put this new wrinkle behind her. He couldn't help but admire her tenacity, and a part of him wished that this spunky girl would be Queen; he knew for certain how well she'd rule after her mother stepped down.

But the more pragmatic side, the Ambrose part of him, chided gently that it couldn't be so. Azkadellia, for all her time in the clutches of the Witch, had already clearly displayed a better ability for politics and diplomacy than the hot-tempered younger sibling. The O.Z. needed someone like Azkadellia to balance the numerous factions which had popped up during the civil war. DG could offer support and trust to her sister that none could… had it been the other way around, everyone would suspect a puppet ruler. Glitch couldn't blame them for it, either. He'd think the exact same thing, in their place.

Finally alongside the Princess, he let her see his worried expression. "I don't think you should be the one to do this. Your father's right — you've done more than enough for the O.Z."

"I can't, Glitch, and you know it," she answered, readjusting her hair for the fifth time. He heard her grumbling about the need to take a nice long shower before leaving on this trip, and he agreed that the rather pungent odor of _eau de fencing masque_ didn't suit the princess very well. She would also need cooler clothes, for the tomb lay a long distance south of the island. Horses, supplies… she needed to delegate these checklists and preparations to someone with a brain for them. Like him! But wait — he didn't want her to go at all!

"At least let one of us go in your place," he protested weakly. "We know where the tomb is, well, sorta… maybe Toto can show us again… and you know you can trust us."

"Of course I can, which is why I'm asking you to go with me."

He nodded eagerly, then stopped in his tracks, cocking his head to one side. _Come again?_ "Go with you?"

A few feet ahead of him, DG slowed to a halt, and turned back to face him. "Yeah? Don't you want to go?"

An entire litany of reasons to stay flickered through his noggin, half of them disappearing before he could even consciously touch on them. Others seemed to repeat themselves, and he smacked himself in the side of the head, taking advantage of the rare lucid realization that he had glitched yet again. Reconnecting temporarily to his brain — _thank you, Raw_ — had reawakened dormant synapses and memory lanes that he had once thought closed forever, which not only helped him recover parts of his personality and training as an advisor, but also helped him to understand when something didn't compute correctly in his head. Like now. Though part of it was DG's fault. Really.

"O-of course I do, it's just… I mean, the Queen and Consort need me here to keep things running, and you saw how the ministers like to bicker, and —"

"Glitch."

"Y-yes, DG?" he glanced up from his wringing hands to realize that she was giving him that look he knew too well — the one that always got them all into trouble, and he'd leap headlong into it anyway because he adored her so, and trusted her, and wanted her to be safe — oh, by Ozma and Glinda, he was goose-cooked at a glance, and he knew it.

"You're telling me," she drawled at him, batting her eyes for dramatic effect, and darn him if it worked, "that you _want_ to be cooped up with some stuffy, old, fat dorks like them instead of making sure I stay safe?"

A long pause stretched between them, and the princess's eyes sparkled in a way which reminded Glitch so much of her mother in her younger years. It had worked on him then, too. He wondered how any man could resist a Gale woman that gave him such eyes, and decided at that moment that such a man would probably be a robot. Or a cyborg. Or Wyatt Cain. Well… actually, he remembered even Cain giving in to the eyes at least once. Maybe twice. Or wasn't there also that time where —

"So?" DG asked, waving a hand in front of his face. "Glitch? You in there?"

He gave his head a frenzied shake, then deflated when he realized he'd spaced out yet again. "Yes, yes, I'm here. What was it?"

"Are you going with me or not?" Again with the pleading eyes, and he idly considered faking a glitch, but immediately thought better of it.

"I… well, you're still a pretty big amateur with a sword. I'd be remiss if I didn't tag along and make sure you didn't stab yourself instead of an opponent. I am your fencing master, after all."

A peal of laughter escaped her lips, and DG leaped at him for a hug. Startled, it took him a moment to reach around with both arms and hug her back, far too pleased with himself.

"Come on now, it's not like I gave you a big gift or something, doll!"

"Don't be silly. You coming with us is even better than that!"

Glitch could only grin.

* * *

Now that Glitch occupied himself with the logistics of getting everything ready for the journey, DG went searching for another friend. This one would likely be hiding in plain sight, making sure she just missed him and hope that she might forget about him. But she couldn't do that, even if she didn't have the famous "Gale stubbornness" Ahamo always went on about.

She checked outside, where he normally liked to sit and meditate, but found nothing. Same thing for the kitchens, his quarters, or near the Queen's audience rooms. Her parents had, though him, worked with other races within the O.Z. to build trust and diplomatic relations which had dissolved when the Witch took power. Some of those allies had quickly renewed their friendships, while still others remained wary. The Eastern Guild, for example, led by the Munchkins, still adamantly called for Azkadellia's head on a flayer pike, and refused to even talk to royal representatives until proof of her death was delivered to their doorstep. Many of the Unwanted also caused trouble around Central City and even went so far as to ally openly with the Long Coats, stating that they didn't want to give up their established "modes of commerce" and ways of living simply because the Queen liked sticking to a clean-cut set of morals. Central City remained, in some areas, a hub of iniquity, particularly in the Sin District. DG knew of one sleazeball underboss in particular who found all too many ways to elude the current authorities and talk (or pay) his way out of jail time. That one caused a certain Tin Man particular aggravation, and she often toyed with the idea of summoning a rather large fireball to chuck in the slimebucket's general direction. But then, Cain wold have to arrest her on principle, much as he might have silently cheered her on for taking out the trash for him.

The minutes grew into an hour, and still DG hadn't found who she sought. Disheartened, she decided to find Azkadellia in order to explain her plans, her feet padding lightly on the stone floors as they followed a path on autopilot. Through three sets of doors, turn left, through the sapphire archway, and second door on the right. About to knock, the door opened on its own, revealing the very person DG had wanted to see before coming here.

"Raw?" she greeted uneasily, but the Viewer put a finger to his lips, exiting and closing the door behind him. As he did so, DG spied Az sitting in a lavishly upholstered chair near the window, knees hugged to her chest with her chin resting on them, the very picture of demure depression. A white-suited woman — her doctor, she realized — sat next to her, speaking in hushed tones so low that DG couldn't make out the words.

"Still worried," Raw supplied as the door clicked shut. "Azkadellia very quiet after waking from dreams."

"She was quiet before this happened," DG disagreed, but her friend smiled sadly.

"Yes, true. But Princess distant. Scared. Hard for Raw to read."

"Really?"

"Azkadellia closed heart. Too afraid." Raw patted her arm affectionately. "DG no worry. We fix while away."

She found herself nodding, but raised her head, grasping Raw's hand in surprise. "Wait, you know I'm going somewhere?"

"Going to find answer to emerald problem," one furry eyebrow raised, and he used his free hand to push a bang from DG's face. "Brave Princess. Do anything for sister."

"But what about you?" Looking at him now, and weighing what he'd already said, DG found that she hadn't needed to find him at all… that she'd known what he would say even before he said it. Raw was a Viewer — yes, he'd followed her on the journey to keep her safe and out of a sense of duty and repayment for saving his life, but he wasn't a fighter. He wasn't meant to go on dangerous missions and risk himself when others needed him more.

"Raw stays. Watch over Azkadellia. Help her fight demons in mind and heart."

"Are you sure?" The words held no patronizing hue or pity; she genuinely would miss his comforting presence, but he already knew all of that.

"Good luck, DG," he murmured before opening the door to Azkadellia's room again, shutting himself inside with her and the doctor.

DG felt a rush of sudden, irrational hurt at the abrupt action, thinking that her friend had chosen to help her sister over her… Just as quickly, she banished the thought with cool logic. Out of all of her friends, Raw and the rest of his race had certainly lost the most at the Witch's hands, and thus had the most reasons to hate and despise her, even wanting her to suffer through this new pain.

Instead, though, he had remained the most vigilant in watching over Az, helping her heal and regain the person she had once been. For her. For DG. For the whole royal family. Able to separate Azkadellia from the Witch in a way few others had shown, Raw had used his respected status as a trusted "Royal Viewer" to defend her honor in diplomatic meetings and council gatherings, standing by her side when Court members, newly emerged from their hiding places, came to call and renew their allegiance to the Queen and her chosen heir.

DG hated that he wanted to stay, but loved him dearly for wanting to help in the best way he could. With that thought, she continued her trek through the palace to find the rest of her old companions and prepare for the journey ahead.

She didn't get far before noticing that she'd picked up a second set of footsteps. Halfway turning, she didn't notice anyone immediately, but then a snuffling sound brought her gaze to the floor. A somewhat raggedy Yorkshire terrier blinked up at her innocently, giving a soft bark that sounded almost questioning. DG scowled, placing hands on her hips and tapping a foot with clear impatience.

"What, you're not man enough to ask me yourself, Toto?"

The dog took two steps back to give himself room before shifting swiftly into the form of her Tutor, his face lowered in an embarrassment which counteracted all those weeks of stern and serious teaching after the Eclipse. DG wasn't used to seeing this side of him and, feeling guilty about her insolent question, she approached hesitantly, ducking her head to look at him.

"Toto?"

"I… was curious," he admitted suddenly, avoiding her eyes. "I wanted to know if you'd even considered asking me to go with you. Your mother told me as soon as she could to help you prepare, but… I saw that Ambrose had already begun without me."

"You know Glitch, he likes to keep himself busy. If I didn't, he'd be tagging along behind me and getting into some kind of trouble."

"Mmm, I suppose that's true." Toto nodded, shuffling his feet from side to side. He seemed to be waiting for something, and DG sighed heavily, weighing her options.

"This is going to be a dangerous mission, Toto. In some ways even more than before." With shock, she recognized her father's own words coming from her mouth, a slight flush dusting her cheeks. "I'd hate to see you get hurt."

"But…" he shook his head with growing sorrow and frustration, his old eyebrows furrowed deeply and lines of age deepening on his forehead. "I know that. But it doesn't matter, DG; don't you see? I need to go with you to prove myself. Even after the Eclipse no one seems to trust me completely… my loyalty has always been to your family for as long as I've lived, and I promised the Queen that I would help you become the Princess you were meant to be. I nearly failed before… and that failure cost me so dearly."

To DG's complete surprise, the shapeshifter finally looked up, unshed tears filling his eyes but not falling. An old man, yes, but a proud one, Toto had thought he'd known his place in the world, but when it had been taken cruelly from him… it had left him broken. DG had no abilities as a Viewer, but Toto never lied well, wearing his emotions and worries on his sleeve like a puppy with a favorite blanket — he never let things go.

"Aw, Toto… please don't get upset…" she felt moisture pricking at her own eyes at the sorry sight of him. "Of course we trust you — you came through for us in the end, didn't you? Helped Cain and Glitch get to the Brain Room in the Sun Seeder, gave them time to deactivate the machine! How could we not trust you after that?"

_Is he right, though?_ she asked herself, thinking back to what memories she had of him. Though her recollections of the past remained scattered at best, she did know that his position as Tutor had granted him certain status. In particular, he had gained the role of "family member," trusted with certain kinds of confidential information, looked to for guidance in protocol, and tasked with the protection of the Princesses at all costs.

But now? He gave DG and Az lessons from time to time, but he rarely showed to council meetings or the family meals like he used to, or seemed to find out about palace business or events much later than the rest of them.

_Is he right? Are we excluding him deliberately because of what happened?_ She didn't know, and it deeply disturbed her.

Toto hadn't replied to any of her questions, merely refocusing his gaze on the floor and playing with a ring on his hand. A memory came to her then of a kind, beautiful woman, her skin a deep shade of cocoa with striking green eyes and a smile as bright as the sun. A tiny little girl somewhat younger than DG often accompanied the smiling woman, her hair plaited into a single braid down her back, shy and reserved as she tugged on her mother's richly embroidered skirts.

"_You're the only family I have left,"_ Toto had said all those weeks ago when begging to stay with them. She hadn't known then, hadn't understood the full implication of those words until now, as he twisted the simple gold band along his ring finger.

DG wanted desperately to ask about them, but nearly bit a hole in her lip trying to keep the question banked away into temporary silence: Toto didn't need that right now. He needed assurance of his position, knowledge that he still had use, and understanding that he still had the love of his second family.

"I… suppose that since it's a long journey to the tomb, I'll have lots of time to refine my magic," she stammered uncomfortably, watching his jaw tense slightly. "And, you really are the one who knows best where it is… and your dog form is better equipped to look out for danger, and could help you escape if things got messy…"

"I won't run, DG," his voice sounded muffled and far away, but firm in its resolution. "Not ever again. I'm going to do everything I can to help you, even if it means sacrificing my life."

"Don't say that, Toto. Nothing like that's going to happen," she replied quickly, finally gaining the courage to give him a hug. "So yes, I do want you to come with us. You'd be a welcome addition to the party."

"There won't be any partying on this journey, Princess," he scolded with less gruffness than she'd usually expect, still standing rigidly still but relaxing into the hug. "Protecting the Emerald of the Eclipse is a very serious matter. We can't let it fall into the wrong hands."

"See, and that's another reason you should come along — you have to explain all this Emerald Lore to me. Tell me the stories of the past that I don't remember. You always were the best storyteller, Toto… I do remember."

He looked up at that, at last meeting her gaze, and finally smiling. "All right, DG. I can do that."

* * *

Three down… one to go. For some reason, DG felt that Cain's would prove the most difficult conversation out of them all. Glitch simply had nerves, Raw saw a greater need elsewhere, and Toto felt that he needed to repay an old debt. Wyatt Cain was something else altogether.

The man seemed to occupy her thoughts much more than usual, and she chalked it up to stress, along with her old habit of looking to him during those times of stress. Just as she intended to look to him now. She felt a pang of guilt for the reasons she intended to use to convince him, not really knowing what else she could possibly say.

_Hey Cain, I know you think your new job's great and all, but I need someone to shoot a gun at crazy people who might want to kill me along the way to a family graveyard. Oh, and since you like the not-getting-sleep-thing, could you help us keep watch until we get back? And you're good at hitting things, so between you and Glitch we could, y'know, keep me from having to fight too much? I am a dainty little Princess and all!_

An indelicate snort escaped before she could cover it up, breaking her wall of seriousness and causing her to burst into snickering giggles in an alcove of the hallway. Two guards patrolling the palace walked by and stared as they passed, clearly wondering what had made the new Sorceress double over in laughter like a prankster schoolgirl about to get into a whole lot of detention.

It took several minutes for her to finally compose herself, wiping her eyes and taking a deep, grounding breath. Amusing or not, she really did need to find the Tin Man before he got caught up in other responsibilities. Having him choose between her and another important errand definitely did not sit on her top ten to-dos for the day. More than that, she didn't feel completely certain which he would choose when given the options.

She took the long way to his office, back down the stairs and past Glitch's workshop, where something of a hustle-and-bustle appeared to begin taking place. She heard her friend giving orders and fluttering about impatiently to several guards and other palace staff, and made sure to sneak by without catching anyone's attention. Pleased with her success, DG finished her trek with a small wince, a twinge in her foot protesting the beating she'd given it today.

Cain's office door was closed this time, but lacked the usual "keep out" message, so she tried to open it. Locked. She tried twisting the handle a bit, remembering that some of the older doors didn't lock very well, but felt a surge of disappointment for her efforts. Of course he would reinforce the lock. This _was_ Cain, after all.

Completely undeterred, she reached into the pocket of her pants for a screwdriver — the mechanic's best friend after a wrench — and pouted at finding nothing. She must have gotten this pair washed and left the tools on her dresser.

_I could go and get it…_ she pondered, scratching her scalp and scrunching her nose, until her fingers brushed against a pin holding back her bangs. _Ahhh… hello old friend…_

How much time had passed since that one glorious little prank of hers? She and a guy friend had been busted for "staying out past curfew" when she was sixteen by newly minted Deputy Sheriff Elmer Gulch, who'd looked for any good reason to add some arrests to his credit. Of course, curfew violations didn't qualify for big press or rewards for heroism, but it had certainly scandalized the little Kansas town and embarrassed young DG (not to mention royally ticked off Emily). So what if she and Ray Stevens had been kissing under the bleachers at school? They'd simply lost track of time, after all. Either way, the two had plotted beautiful revenge that likely still haunted Gulch to this day. It made DG smile to think of it.

Forty-eight hours after the rumor mill — courtesy of Gulch's big mouth — had flooded the town with stories about the town's newest 'dastardly duo,' Ray and DG had stumbled over a skunk's nest during a walk and nearly got sprayed for their trouble. They hadn't, but the experience enabled them to formulate a plan: Ray, as a high school senior working at the local animal shelter, was able to acquire a live animal trap after hours under the guise of trying to move an angry animal to a safer location. By all reports, he'd apparently received some skeptical looks, but said nothing when he assured this boss that the farmer would have the trap back to him in the morning.

After some research to discover the American skunk's favorite foods, the pair captured it safely and without any fuss. The thing stayed relatively calm so long as DG kept feeding it, until they'd found Gulch's car parked outside the diner for a late night slice of pie. True to arrogant form, the deputy had left the squad car doors unlocked, and DG had thrown in the last of the snacks into the front passenger seat before Ray released the skunk and shut the door behind it.

A few hours and a well-spent $200 to the right people later, Ray and DG had a rock solid alibi and a really pissed-off deputy sheriff on the news for an incident involving local animal harassment. Luckily, no animals were actually harmed, but the shouting and the smells had caused quite a stir outside the diner. Gulch had never been able to pin anything but the most circumstantial suspicion on them, but DG suspected that his obsession with giving her a steady string of speeding tickets had something to do with the way his squad car still reeked. She had no regrets, except that her dear partner in crime had taken the smart route and escaped Kansas for an out-of-state college a few months later. Ray had drawn a lucky card, and she wished him well.

Perhaps the best thing he'd taught her, though, was how to pick locks. Not only did he own a nifty set of picks that she got to practice with regularly in the few months they'd hung out together, but he also showed her how to be handy with hairpins, paper clips, and smaller screwdrivers as needed. They'd never used these tricks to harm others or steal anything, but the knowledge made for some rather creative practical jokes.

_Now then, back to the task at hand._ Pulling the pin from her hair, DG twisted it out of shape before sticking one end into the lock for tension, then using the other, looser end to try and find the pins. It took a minute to metaphorically blow the rust off her basic skills, but the door creaked open as a reward after several minutes of focused jimmying. Stifling a whoop of victory, the princess tiptoed inside the darkened office to… well, to be incredibly nosy.

Much had stayed as she'd last seen it a little while ago — maps, books, hastily penned notes, and just incomprehensible _stuff_ laying everywhere. DG was an artist and could understand a chaotic mess, but even she had a method and order to her creative madness. This kind of thing just bewildered her; how could the Tin Man possibly find anything in here?

She rounded his desk, sitting in Cain's chair and casting her gaze about with interest. Her attention fell onto a map by the door with several marked "x"s on it, seemingly in the western section of the O.Z. A map directly in front of her on the desk appeared to be a blown-up version of that region, for the marks had a similar pattern. More than that, Cain had marked some shorthand notes, none of which she could immediately translate. One town had a heavily-marked circle around it, with arrows and tons of notations. DG peered at it, thinking that the name of the town was incredibly familiar, when a shadow fell over the open doorway, followed by a telltale _click._

Her head snapped up so fast that her mind spun, hands reflexively rising in surrender. "Hey! Cain! It's just me!"

The Tin Man entered his office as a darkened silhouette with the light of the hallway behind him, but DG didn't need to see him to know at what level he sat on the pissed-off meter. The gun did return to its holster, thankfully, but Cain jerked a thumb behind him the moment his weapon vanished, indicating that she needed to exit _now._ She stood warily, shoulders hunched and head low, feeling her way through the mess until she made it to the doorway. There she stopped, unable to pass him, but he didn't move a muscle, his jaw tightly set and hands clenched into fists at his sides.

"Cain…" she started, feeling rather than seeing his gaze fix on her with unreadable emotion. "I… I, uh…" Unable to find the words, she fell silent, pressing herself against the wall and trying to slide by. As soon as she made it three inches, the arm nearest her shot out, open palm smacking into the wall above her shoulder and effectively blocking any further progress. DG released a soft, startled "eep" and gulped involuntarily.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to—"

"You picked the lock." Fully confident, completely flat. She'd messed up good this time, going and making him mad when all she wanted was for him to go on this little bitty adventure with her…

"Um…"

"You invaded my personal space." He rounded on her now, shaking his finger at her as he face moved within inches of hers. DG resisted the urge to squeak again, digging around inside her mind for some courage and coming up empty.

"I was… practicing my super spy skills?" she tried, giving him a lopsided and toothy smile that probably looked incredibly lame. It must have, because Cain's eyes didn't soften from flint-chip mode.

_He could probably crack diamonds with those laser beams of his!_ "Really, Cain, I was trying to find you, and got… sidetracked. I'm sorry. Forgive me?"

Staring at her a little longer, the Tin Man sighed, but didn't back off. "DG, I'm doing very important work in here. Much of it's to protect you and your family. I can't be worried about you snoopin' around!"

"What, you think I'm gonna go and tell the closest Long Coat which Tin Man candidates you're accepting? What postings you're giving them? Come on, Mr. Cain!" A notion struck her then that both made her feel like the biggest idiot for pulling the break-in stunt, but also could be dangled in front of him as a great taunt.

"Besides… I don't _need_ to break in here to know what all you're doing and working on. Toto's taught me some pretty neat tricks."

That earned a growl of consternation, which drew a smirk from the princess. At least his anger wouldn't be completely directed at _her_ anymore. She watched him process the implications of her statement, marveling at how much she could see going on just by studying his face. Idly, a part of her wondered how much of that he could hide while playing poker, and made a deal with herself to figure it out sometime… maybe even during the trip. Speaking of which…

"Hey, Cain?"

"What?" he half-snapped, clearly still in the middle of processing and not pleased by the interruption.

"Wanna take a vacation?"

"…What?"

"I _said…_" she took a deep breath, "Do you want a vacation from your job to do some real work?"

"What're you talkin' about, Princess?"

"Oh, you know, I have to return the emerald to the Grey Gale starting tomorrow, and I _really_ don't think I should be going all by my lonesome…" Without any sense of shame she batted her eyelashes at him, playing up the 'poor little princess' routine as best she could.

Much to her astonishment, the ploy worked.

"Like hell you're going alone!" he exclaimed, poking her shoulder with a pointer finger. "You'll get yourself killed if I'm not there to rein you in, kid. Count me in, whether you want it or not."

Her jaw dropped, sincerely pleased and amazed that he fell for it. Granted, she'd very easily gotten what she wanted, but she never thought it would be this easy! "Really? But what about your big bad job, Commish?"

"Screw it," he spat, cupping both of her shoulders in his hands now, thumbs resting at the hollow of her neck. "DG, nothing is more important to me than makin' sure you're safe. I can put somebody temporarily in charge while I'm gone, but while there's Long Coats out there and there's still breath in me, I'm not letting you outta my sight so easily."

"Easy for you to say," she muttered, then turned a deep shade of crimson as she realized she'd spoken the words aloud, looking away from his questioning gaze. "I mean… I'm just surprised."

He tilted his head to one side, the hat shifting to a rakish angle cutting across his features, his expression suspicious now. "You are? Why?"

"You… Cain, you've literally thrown yourself into this Tin Man thing ever since Mother granted you the position. Even though I'm not sure—" _that you even like the stupid job, _she wanted to say, but bit her tongue and tried to shift her track before it got too personal "—you're taking good care of yourself, being Tin Man Commissioner seems to be taking a lot of your time. We don't see much of you anymore. You're too busy."

Cain blinked, his face dropping only some of its residual anger. "Too busy? Never thought of it that way. But it's all for you."

"…?" One eyebrow raised in question, for that statement sounded far different than it probably meant to.

"You and your family," he amended smoothly, some of his gruffness returning, "For your protection. That's why I'm doing it."

"Right. Of course." DG let out a breath she didn't know she'd held, forcing a grin. "So… you're going with us?"

"Us? Thought you planned on going 'by your lonesome'?" Cain gave a knowing smirk.

"Er… I may have fibbed a little there."

"I'll say. Doesn't matter though, your mother asked me personally to join you about twenty minutes ago."

"W-what?!" she cried, reflexively slapping him in the chest. "You mean you knew?! And you let me go through all of that?"

"Seemed fitting payment for you breakin' and entering my office like that. I should throw you in the big house for a night, see how you like it."

"Mr. Cain, you are rude and mean and a horrible person."

His lips tilted even further upwards, and he backed off at last, gesturing to the outside of the hall once more. "At your service, Princess. Now, I think we've got some preparing to do before tomorrow?"

DG fought the urge to slap him again for his mocking attitude, mustering up enough dignity to raise her chin and walk out without tripping on anything. _Stupid Tin Man._

"Oh, and DG?" he called after her, and she eyed him over one shoulder, none too eager to hear any more right now.

"What?"

There was the stupid smirk again! "You should probably try to get some rest, but do us all a favor and shower first?"

Her face darkened with a blush that reached halfway down her neck; she shook an indignant fist at him.

"As if you smell like a bed of roses, Tin Man! You wore the stinking gear, too!"

"You spent a lot more time in 'em than I did. The whole palace can smell _you_ coming."

And with that, he entered his office with a quick sidestep and shut the door barely in time to miss the shoe DG tugged off her aching foot and chucked at it.

_Stupid, _rude_ Tin Man! _she fumed.

* * *

_**Notes: **Happy 2013! I tried to post this just after midnight, but more and more ideas kept coming to me, and late nights make my editing move much more slowly. With this chapter I give you all two gifts for New Year's – a glimpse into Glitch's perspective, and a long Cain/DG scene. =)_

_Things really get moving in the next section, but it will also begin to split between the goings-on at the Ice Palace and the progress of DG's adventure. I'm already working on a section from Cain's perspective, which some of you have been intensely curious about. Thank you again for all your comments and support – I hope you enjoyed Chapter 08!_

_~Mekanikora_


	9. Chapter 09 - Wheels within Dreams

_**Chapter 09 – Wheels within Dreams**_

* * *

"_Wyatt? What's wrong?"_

_Cain had entered with storm clouds battling over his features, unknowingly giving her a taste of his shocking anger with a dangerous glance. It seemed as though he didn't even see her there, only the faces still lingering within his thoughts. Refusing to back down, she approached him firmly but carefully, reaching for his arm and not shrinking back when he tried to sharply shrug it off, merely trying a second and third time until he relented, drawing her into a tight embrace. He bent his head to look down at her, and she felt relief wash over her as his eyes softened from stony grey to softer pools, pressing their foreheads together in silent apology. _

_He tried to speak, but she placed a long, slender finger over his lips, then playfully flicking her fingernail at his nose to scold him for his temper._

"_What's wrong?" she asked again, gently. Some of the fury threatened to return, but she clutched his shirtfront firmly, daring him to throw another tantrum. He didn't, instead visibly forcing himself to calm, one fist opening long enough to brush golden hair from her cheeks to behind her ears. His fingers brushed the carved wooden barrettes he'd had custom-made for their wedding years ago, and he sighed against her._

"_They… they're afraid, Adora. They're damned cowards — some of them are even talking about defecting to the Princess's armies!"_

_She merely nodded, having heard the whispers herself. "And so?"_

"_Craigson's already disappeared, along with some other lieutenants and new recruits. The Captain's hands are tied, he says, the spineless bastard, and the Mystic Man…"_

"_Go on," she urged, stroking his cheek with unending patience. "What does the Great and Terrible say of it, Wyatt?"_

"_He said…" Cain's eyes squeezed shut, though whether from anger or pain — or both — Adora couldn't tell. "He said that it didn't matter, and to let them go. We shouldn't be the ones to render judgement — it'd be the job of someone else, someday. But how can I just let them go without a word, Adora? How could I possibly —"_

"_Wyatt." She stopped him with a word; only she could do it, and made sure never to do so at the expense of her husband's pride, and only ever in private. Oh, she'd sit back and let him rail and rave on those rare occasions that such was warranted, but in the moment, even rarer still, that he decided to step over the line… Well, it was her job to let him know about it, in no uncertain terms. _

"_Darling," she continued, taking off his prized hat and tossing it deftly on the arm of his favorite chair by the fire. "You have such a noble heart, and I know that it's hard for you to understand the evil of others."_

"_That's not true at all, Adora, don't be naive," he protested, drawing away but holding onto the hand that had graced his face. "I've done plenty of things many'd call evil."_

"_Oh yes, I know, you're a big, bad Tin Man with a cross to bear," Adora teased, a girlish giggle bubbling from her lips. He started to frown at her mocking, but she refused to let him go. "Hush. My point is, you have to learn to forgive those lost souls."_

"_Forgive them?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "For serving Azkadellia? Never."_

"_You must," she insisted. "'Forgiveness leads us to truth and peace.'" Adora quoted Glinda's teaching with ease and sincerity, and a touch of shame dotted Wyatt's features with red. "But that's not all of it, my love. Do you remember the rest?"_

"_Yes," he sighed, continuing the passage with restrained petulance. "'But forgiveness alone is not enough; we must all face the obstacles in our path—_

"'_With the same open hearts as we do in times of joy,'" they finished together. _

"_You know I'm not one for spiritual stuff," Cain grumbled, looking away._

"_Neither am I, but I think sometimes things like this are kind reminders about how we should run our lives. It's not my fault the words are true." A moment of silence fell, and then a rather grumpy, high pitched whine began to grow from the next room, causing Adora's head to instantly turn with concern. _

"_Oh dear, I think your son's ready for his evening meal."_

"_Or a diaper change," Wyatt snickered. _

"_He's a bit old for that, I think, at seven annuals!" she pretended to swat his rear. "If it is in fact a soiled set of pants, my love, I will leave it to you!" she called, laughter punctuating her statement as she went to tend to their child. _

* * *

"Adora…" Cain woke himself with a small chuckle, but as reality seeped through his bones with the biting cold of the north, a momentarily softened heart reverted back again to solid stone. Stars still lay scattered across the sky, glittering wildly in the clear night, even brighter without the moon to dim their radiance.

Gentle snores wove around him, offering little comfort in his sudden pang of loss. Temptation to lose himself in his thoughts dragged at him, kicking and screaming, but years of training and fierce paranoia won out in the end. His eyes instinctively scouted the camp and, finding nothing amiss, returned to a spot near his feet, but not staring at it so much as through it.

"_Forgiveness leads us to truth and peace. But forgiveness alone is not enough; we must all face the obstacles in our path—with the same open hearts as we do in times of joy."_

Adora's favorite passage from Glinda's teachings rang in his ears with the unreliable sheen of fading memory. How many years now, since that day? Times had passed when he had clung to those words, and others when he cursed them and the mockery it brought to his suffering, and inexorably his mind touched on the darkness of eight years locked away —

Cain sat up abruptly, unable to let himself jump on the 'poor me' train. What would Adora think, had she really known what had happened to him?

Jeb had understood, to a lesser extent, for he'd been in the damned suit for a time. A much shorter length of time — days or weeks as opposed to years — but it gave him a steel edge that washed away all vestiges of childhood that might have remained in the already battle-hardened teenager. Cain spared a moment once more to mourn for the boy he'd lost, but pride sat comfortably alongside that distant sadness, absorbing it into something small and manageable.

With sleep now drifting further away by the passing minutes of reminiscing, Cain grunted, bracing against the tree to rise to his feet. The left one had fallen asleep within the boot, its leather strap a bit too tightly wound around the ankle. He tugged at the strap with a curled finger, none too surprised to find it damp. They'd tromped through some thick snows earlier that day as they finished their descent from the mountains, and despite the warm layers and DG's handy little spell, many a sniffle had emerged around the campfire at dinner.

Glitch snorted in his sleep somewhere to his right, muttering numbers and gibberish Cain didn't try to comprehend. Toto had changed into his canine form earlier in the day, and stayed so even now, curled up within a nested blanket. Without knowing why, and not figuring he should ask, the Tin Man had noted distantly that Toto had been acting… well, both literally and figuratively like a dog with its tail between its legs ever since leaving the palace, resolutely sticking to DG's side at all times.

_Damn annoying, but at least its another pair of eyes,_ he allowed with a quiet half-sigh. DG had an interesting way of drawing trouble to herself, which meant that though the last three days of travel had proven completely uneventful, he knew that the other shoe just waited to squash them when it decided to drop.

DG. His thoughts soured, as did his expression. How she'd learned that little lock-pick trick was beyond him. Why she'd used it eluded him further. It struck him that he'd been about to question who the hell she was to pull a stunt like that, but of course the answer came too easily — she was the Princess, and essentially his boss. In a sense. Maybe.

_Not yet, she isn't. _Until the day the Queen stepped down to let her daughters rule the O.Z. in her place, _she_ remained his liege lady, and DG stayed a punk who had broken several laws to enter his office.

_Let it go, Wyatt,_ a voice from memory drifted through his mind, brushing against it delicately. Cain winced, knowing that Adora really would chide him so for holding onto yet another grudge. But dammit, he couldn't be worried about her snooping in on him all the time! How could he keep her safe when he had to keep _himself_ safe from _her?_

She and those little puppy dog blues of hers had wormed their way into back into his good graces at just the right time, right as he'd been about to give her a good yelling-at right in the face. Oh, he'd been all ready to brand her behind — metaphorically speaking, of course — for nearly stumbling upon weeks of work that not even the Queen had known… Cain stopped himself there, redirecting his train of thought.

DG. Right. Think about her.

_Let's not_,he argued against himself gruffly, annoyed yet again at the fact that DG had escaped his full Tin Man wrath with a blink of blue eyes.

Those damned blue eyes. He didn't like that he'd forgiven her. And really, he'd only just let it go. The anger still seethed there, ready to burst… up until she decided to look at him again, all innocent-like, and bat those lashes.

_What the HELL is wrong with me?_

* * *

She hadn't told anyone about the shadows. She knew what they would think of her, if she told them. She almost didn't believe in them herself, until the moments of doubt crept in, and they sat waiting just behind that curtain for their time to dance their curse once more. Pride kept her silent, and fear stoked the flames of pride to dangerous levels — fear for what might happen if she spoke of it.

The bits of darkness tugged at her, ghostly and wraithlike, sending icy shivers through her, but no visible mark ever appeared, no matter how bone-deep they chilled. They clamored incessantly for her attention, never even wilting in the presence of others, in fact they grew louder, stronger when she wasn't alone.

_Azkadellia... _

Sometimes eyes would peer at her from beneath tables, behind the cracks of doors, above the rafters and between the stars, and she had taken to hiding in her room to escape them, to no avail.

They seemed more active, more harried whenever she sat near a mirror, and so over the last three days had tried to avoid reflective surfaces altogether. The Viewer had asked her no questions, merely patted her hand and waited on her every whim, like any good servant would do. It sickened her, and though she tried to order him off, he kept coming back again and again, as if drawn by her misery. He hadn't gone with DG, as she'd expected, and when prodded only smiled in answer, as if his reasons for staying were obvious.

_Trust no one. Trust **us**. Listen! _

Did Raw revel in it — her pain? She wondered. Could he know of her suffering, and enjoy it for the sake of his kind?

But no, someone so cruel could hardly befriend her darling sister. DG wouldn't allow it.

Azkadellia hissed into the cup of tea beneath her lips, and forced herself to take a slow, scalding sip. _Calm. Peace. _A headache forced her knuckles to whiten, fingers taut over the delicate cup, nearly shattering it in a wave of pain.

Green flashes – daggers flicking the corners of her vision – and the edge of inhuman laughter pealed, warped, twisted in the echoing halls and died just out of earshot. Her eyes snapped up to catch the culprit, but no one was near. In fact, everyone at this late hour had to be asleep, even the night-duty guards. Perhaps it had helped that she'd spelled them so, for she hated to be observed on these new evening walks of hers.

_No one to see you cry. No one to see you scream... _

The cup clinked into its matching saucer, an antique thing with silver leaf painted along the edges and emerald-filigreed butterflies dancing between the realm's twin suns, an old poem written in the language of the Ancients carefully inscribed along the gentle curve:

"_As the times ride on, carry forth your sorrows_

_And set it free amongst the sparrows._

_For the time is come for you, my dear;_

_Listen now to the elder's voice_

_And lend a careful ear."_

Her lips mouthed the words dispassionately, all too aware of the verse's incredible irony. The cup settled, and with it the tea, and Azkadellia saw her face, gaunt and drawn from fitful sleeps, reflected within. And though she knew what came next, in horror she waited to see if it might come again.

_Always in the shadows. Even when you're not looking... _

A humming rose in her ears, and with it the headache flared, a flush following suit, marching boldly across pale cheeks. Her eyes watered, but something kept them from blinking, and the voice which emerged from her throat, husky and deep, shattered her with its familiarity.

"Hello, Sorceress."

* * *

_**Author's Notes: **I am **so** sorry, everyone, to not only have kept you waiting this long, but to present you with such a short chapter after the hiatus. To briefly explain, my husband has recently left for military service (his first), and it's been a challenge to completely rearrange my life around his absence. He also was a fantastic beta-reader, and I've been worried about making new posts without him checking for silly mistakes. _

_I know that's not an excuse, and I'm going to try harder to write every day like I was before he left and keep up with this story, beta-reader or not!_

_If Cain's part feels forced, I again apologize. For some reason, he doesn't want to 'speak' to me at the moment... and it could be because my own Cain is absent =( I will keep trying, though. I did, however, enjoy writing Az's part, and look forward to exploring her new "condition" in later chapters. _

_In the next chapter, DG and Co. discover a new, unexpected ally, Cain continues to mutter (in his head) about how grouchy he is, while Raw and the Royal Couple struggle to discover what's wrong with Azkadellia. I hope to post this by the end of the week – wish me luck! _


	10. Chapter 10 - Fragile Connections

_**Chapter 10 - Fragile Connections**_

* * *

_Author's Notes: Hello everyone! I had to make a few adjustments after this initially posted; apparently the site doesn't like underlining things? So hopefully things are fixed now in Az's section. If you see any errors, please let me know! _

* * *

They'd struck camp before dawn that morning, and DG still rubbed the frozen, sore parts of her rump with a deep wince. Commissioner Grumpy-Pants had issued an edict that they'd go from sunup until sundown today in the hope that they'd reach warmer weather and put them much closer to the tomb.

That was all well and good, but her newly-spoiled princess self didn't much like the idea of starting a long day on nothing but a handful of nuts and freshly-picked fruit, much less a scant few hours of sleep. Twenty-one annuals or not, she was still growing, right?!

"DG, stop daydreaming and mount up," Cain called, his own horse already fed and saddled. Toto circled her feet anxiously, wagging his tail and barking up at her with far too much energy this early in the day. She grumbled an inaudible reply, and nearly jumped out of her skin when a warm hand fell upon her shoulder. Ready to whirl and give Cain a bit of her mother's "spitfire" inheritance, the princess doused her internal rage instantly as a friendly face smiled encouragingly back at her.

"Don't worry about him, he's just not a morning person," Glitch's eyes twinkled with mischief. "I think he let me sleep through my watch again."

"That would certainly explain it," she rolled her eyes, turning back to the saddle that she'd somehow managed to put on the horse … backwards. Groaning, she tugged at the straps to take it off again, but Glitch's hands replaced hers, shoulder pushing her out of the way.

"Go on," he murmured, nodding towards the remains of camp. "If you're quick, you can catch a bit of the soup from last night. There's still some in a canteen."

"Really?"

"Yeah, go." He turned to the task, moving the horse to block Cain's line of sight, and DG barely concealed a squeak of delight, giving him a grateful peck on the cheek before hurrying over to the food.

* * *

Glitch watched her go, and shook his head. And shook it again. And shook it —

He gave himself a flick to the left temple, wincing as the slight shock brought him back to his senses. It was getting easier to recognize the signs of an oncoming glitch, and he had Raw to thank for it. He'd had barely enough time before their departure to have another "reconnection" exercise with his brain, despite his initial misgivings about the entire thing.

Ha. _Misgivings._ Such an inappropriate word for the terrors he'd faced in recent weeks, but at least now he didn't have to brave them alone.

None aside from the Queen and Raw knew about the horrific mental episode he'd suffered soon after the Witch's defeat. The day had started with some monotony, and after giving DG and Azkadellia their lessons had retired to his workshop to tinker with a new set of agricultural plans. Minutes grew to hours, and the suns had set before he knew it, but still he continued to work, humming broken pieces of a melody.

Sometime in the late morning a headache — which he'd assumed had grown from lack of sleep and working too hard — had blossomed at the base of his skull, and no amount of determination had deterred the pain from spreading. He recalled stubbornly reaching for a set of old engineering plans when the sensations quadrupled to incalculable levels, his tortured animal screams echoing pitilessly through the halls. Raw had come careening into the workshop at full speed, finding Glitch spasmodically twitching over a desk, head clutched in his hands.

Somehow, the previously hidden facets of Ambrose had recrystallized into a full personality and taken full control of Glitch, sending their shared body into a complete meltdown as the memories of two entirely different people came into direct contact. Only halfway understanding what was happening, and afraid to alert anyone else, Raw had sought out the only truly stabilizing force Glitch would easily recognize in either form — the Queen herself.

Hardly recognizing even his own monarch through the waves of pain, Ambrose had reached for the first weapon he could find, and only the Queen's magical shield — feeble, but effective enough against a crazed madman's weakened state — had held him at a safe distance.

"_Ambrose?"_

"_Where am I? Where am I? Who are you?"_

"_Ambrose, please. Take a breath. You are again among allies. Calm yourself, old friend."_

_Hesitation. Blinking. "…My Queen?"_

"_Yes, Ambrose. Do you recognize me?"_

Why won't my vision clear? _The advisor stepped back, the wrench one-handedly held in front of him. "This is a trick. Azkadellia ordered your execution —"_

"_A lie, my friend, to break the spirit of the people. Luckily for us all, the ruse failed, and I have returned to the throne." She smiled. He recognized it, felt his resolve waver, but shards of glass pierced his skull, and paranoia fogged his senses. _

"_No. Too convenient. Too pretty. You are not real. An illusion. What is wrong with me? What is all this? Some mockery of my workspaces? This is all wrong… wrong… WRONG… WRONG —"_

_Metallic clatters sent new pain stomping across his eardrums as the wrench dropped from shaking fingers. Ambrose clutched his head and, upon discovering a grotesque zipper across his skull and recognizing the tattered remains of his old court clothing, began to scream anew. He collapsed on all fours, pale skin flushed with delirious fever, voraciously drinking in the chill of marble floors and never once feeling the coolness. _

_A Viewer — _Azkadellia used Viewers all the time, the poor creatures, this _must_ be a trick _— tried to approach, but the Queen held him back with a swift gesture, stepping in front to block him from Ambrose's view._

_It didn't matter, for he saw nothing now but spattered black and red, memories not his own spilling like whitewash paint through his mind, blurring the things he knew as true, calling all his knowledge and wisdom into brutal interrogation, he was at war with this unknown person within his body, get out get out get OUT — _

_The Alchemist. He remembered. A leather strap tightened painfully over his forehead, but they left his eyes uncovered. He wouldn't give them the information, no, the Sun Seeder would forever remain _his _proud creation and not twisted to the Sorceress's cruel ends…_

"_Count back from one hundred," the Alchemist murmured, stepping back to allow Ambrose a full view of the saw, still wet and speckled from some other poor soul's torture, they didn't even bother to clean the thing… a prick at his arm made him jump, jostling the strap, but not enough to free himself, not enough… _

"_Ninety-nine…" the man purred, even as Ambrose begged and pleaded for him to stop._

"_Ninety-eight…" he continued, and Ambrose fought the scream bubbling in his throat._

"_Ninety-seven…" The saw began to descend, shadows dancing in the bright lights dangling haphazardly above…_

"_Ninety-six—" Darkness fell. _Someone called his name.

"**Ambrose**_." The word — his name — whipped with authority through him, and his screams stopped. _

Ever calm and sympathetic, the Queen had talked him down to near-sanity, filling him in on what he'd missed without any gaps. His broken mind had focused on her voice, always suspicious but desperately wanting some kind of truth to hold on to. He hadn't heard her steps or seen her glide across the room, hadn't felt the touch of her gentle hand upon his lowered brow, which still burned with unspent madness. She'd spoken to him without ceasing, until there was the briefest of pauses, and a soft command, and he'd fallen prey to oblivion once more.

Only vaguely did Glitch recall the episode at all, "waking up" from Ambrose's control to find Raw deep in concentration back in the control room of Azkadellia's converted Sun Seeder. The moment he'd returned to consciousness Raw himself had snapped awake, quickly explaining what had happened, and why they were back at the tower.

Two sides of him, as the advisor understood, currently stood at a state of war; the brutal removal of half his brain had forced his fractured personality to cope by creating a new self — known affectionately as Glitch. Unless and until complete memories of his past life returned, Glitch would remain the dominant personality: Ambrose may or may not have ever resurfaced at all, but the shock of the brain reconnection, completely unprecedented before then, had clearly caused the problem.

While only a few minutes in real-time, Glitch's synapses had absorbed countless memories and personality traits of Ambrose while Raw kept them connected. The Viewer had acted as a neural conduit, repairing countless scars and filling blank spaces that Glitch never knew existed. Some effects were immediate, such as remembering the days immediately before Azkadellia's takeover, and a few facts and figures from favorite projects. Others, such as Glitch's new awareness of when his brain fell into a feedback loop, took more time to develop.

Until the moment of his "shattering," as the Queen called it, Glitch had naively thought that those small changes would be the end of it. At her direction, Raw and Glitch made weekly trips to the tower to re-establish the connections with the hope of not only preventing another "shatter," but also to help both sides of the personality learn to co-exist.

After several such sessions, Glitch could often feel Ambrose's presence as a disembodied voice within his mind, and sometimes it fought its way to the surface by adjusting a gesture or forcing a smug tone when he spoke. He found it incredibly disconcerting, but at the same time welcomed the opportunities to relearn about himself. With that said, he didn't want to lose himself to… well, _himself._ He may have lived the majority of his life as Ambrose, but how could he stand to simply put aside the many years as Glitch, with all of the experiences and feelings and battles he'd won?

"Zipperhead, did you forget which horse was yours?" a voice dryly asked, pulling him out of his musings. He hadn't heard Cain walking by, but refused to let it annoy him, instead finishing his task and checking DG's stirrups before turning to face the Tin Man.

"Did I? I could've sworn I rode the white horse."

"This one's a paint, Glitch."

He forced a laugh. "Aha, so it is. And how could I forget that _you're_ the one on the white horse, Mr. Hero of the O.Z.?" he jibed with a grin.

Cain rolled his eyes, and then turned his attention to their surroundings. "Don't tell me our Princess ran off."

"I doubt it. She's useless at hunting. Couldn't exactly fend for herself."

Sigh. "Point. But that doesn't tell me where she is. We're late getting started." The irritation in his voice unmistakable, Glitch turned fully to face him, an eyebrow cocked upward.

"You know, Cain, your rating on the Grouch-o-Meter's been a bit high, even for you. I think DG would say that you've 'got a bug up your butt.' Care to elaborate on it?"

"No, I wouldn't," he snapped. Then his jaw twitched, as if he clenched his teeth, and he relaxed slightly. "I need to get this mission over with. And to do that I need the Princess on her horse ten minutes ago, not foraging for snacks!"

"There's a lot of 'I' in those statements," Glitch observed, patting the horse's neck as it shifted warily. "That isn't like you."

The Tin Man opened his mouth to speak — undoubtedly a remark of temper, judging by his expression — and shut it promptly, his ears burning bright pink. Intrigued, Glitch peered at him with careful scrutiny. Something definitely was eating at his friend, but the knowledge that they still had a long way to go before reaching the tomb nagged at him.

"Look, I'll go and find DG. But don't think I'm dropping this, Cain."

"Suit yourself. Ain't nothing to drop, anyhow," he drawled back. Turning on his heel, Cain stalked off, leaving Glitch wondering after him with intense curiosity.

* * *

"How long has she been this way?"

"Don't know, Sir. Found her this way when woke up."

"And she's said nothing to you?"

"No. Azkadellia cry for a long time. Not let me in to see her."

Fingers pinched the bridge of his nose; Ahamo sighed in defeat as he tried in vain to stare through the heavy wooden door to his eldest daughter's room. The cries just mentioned were absent now, perhaps banished by Azkadellia's knowledge that eavesdroppers stood just outside. Fragile, perhaps, and distant, but the Consort knew his daughter as a cautious and alert soul.

And certainly a child too gentle for the tortures the Witch had ruthlessly heaped on her. He could only imagine what she had encountered and been forced to endure during the years of servitude — how long, then, until he could fully regain his beautiful child, as he had DG?

"Not your fault," assured Raw with a pat to his shoulder, clearly sensing his dismay.

Ahamo shook his head, shutting his eyes against the guilt he tried to hide. "I'm sorry, my friend, but that isn't true. We made the decision to save DG and send her to the Other Side at the cost of Azkadellia."

"Did you know you could save her?"

His heart jumped in his throat, those seven words chaining him to the spot as easily as spelled iron. He knew that Az could hear, and no amount of praying that she now slept would change the fact that he _had_ to answer the question.

For himself.

For his wife.

For his family.

_Did you know you could save her?_

"I…"

The door gave a squeal on its hinges, startling both into staring at Azkadellia's worn, gaunt features as they revealed themselves in the growing light from the corridor. With only half her face visible, she looked like a lost child in search of a safe haven. Ahamo remembered a night long ago when she'd had a bad dream, and had come running to his studio to hug his knees in terror. _The monsters came for me!_ she'd sobbed, and he'd picked her up, told her a story, and tucked her safely back into bed, waiting patiently until she'd fallen asleep before returning to work.

How easy things had been for them, then. Where had such days gone? He couldn't story these monsters away. She wouldn't let him help. What use was he as a father? What use was any father who abandoned his child?

But he forced a smile, welcoming his wayward daughter into the morning light. "Good morning, Az. Did you sleep?"

"Daddy?" she murmured, squinting as though she didn't recognize him. And then her expression changed, fluidly morphing into an expression of complete calm. "I'm sorry. I didn't realize you were waiting for me."

"No, we weren't waiting for you, darling," the Consort's smile grew warmer, more genuine. "We've been worried. Raw here says that you've been crying all morning—"

Her eyes focused on the Viewer, considering. "Raw. Of course. DG's friend."

Raw and Ahamo exchanged a look, but Az continued, opening the door a bit more. "I didn't mean to concern you. I — was looking for something I'd lost in my room, and hurt myself when checking under the bed. That's all. I'm so sorry I worried you."

Both men visibly relaxed. "Well then," Ahamo replied, "I guess I should go and get you something special for breakfast, now that you're feeling better?"

A bit of a twinkle appeared in her eyes. "That sounds wonderful, Daddy. Thank you."

Spirits lifting, her father started down the hall, making a swift beeline for the kitchens and hoping that the cooks had all of the ingredients necessary for blueberry waffles.

* * *

Raw lingered a moment more, catching the Princess's gaze and carefully expanding his senses. "Feeling better now? Raw can heal bruises for Azkadellia."

Her eyes flashed, darkening to a point which gave him a chill, for in that moment she looked exactly as she had while the Witch controlled her. But then the shadows vanished, leaving her face oddly blank.

"No… that won't be necessary. I'm sure you have other duties today, Raw. Thank you." The door clicked firmly shut, and the internal lock followed suit. He heard nothing more after that, though his ears strained for any sound. She may have been waiting for him to leave before doing anything else, whether crying or 'looking for something.' He didn't know, and didn't believe the story she'd told Ahamo.

Though he couldn't put his finger on the source of the problem, of one thing Raw was completely certain — since her liberation from the Witch, Azkadellia had never before responded to him with such ice in her tone.

* * *

_**The Viewer may become a problem.**_

_The beasts're _empaths,_ not telepaths. Keep yer emotions in check and he won't suspect a thing!_

_**What are you suggesting? I am in perfect control of my senses.**_

_-Perhaps so, but even we cannot completely suppress the Sorceress's own emotions.-_

_Thought we're workin' on that?_

_-Easier said than done, my impatient friend.-_

_**Remember, there are others among us who don't… share in our designs. **_

_Yeah, but since we've banded together he ain't been able to make a peep or show 'is face._

_**Oh, do let's remind ourselves of what we can no longer physically perform. 'Show his face,' indeed. **_

_-You're being a touch sensitive about all of this, my dear.-_

_**Sensitive? Oh, that's a fine thing to say. Who was the one who first discovered how to gain control over the Sorceress herself? **_

_-Truth be told, you couldn't have done it without help. You—-_

_Er, hate t'be rude and interrupt, but _she's_ listening to this._

She forced her body to move, sluggish and slow, to the mirror. Azkadellia felt the change, the shift in consciousness with greater clarity the more it happened. And since the incident last night… well, it had shaken her so badly that they had easily wrenched control away from her.

The first thought had been to fight back, shove them back into the darkness whence they came, but now they worked in concert — some of them, at least — to shove her broken self into the background, allowing them the complete freedom to roam about in her skin. She wanted to grind her teeth, stamp her feet, _anything_ that would indicate her own feelings… _how dare they even speak to my father! _But they only laughed and smothered her even further as they planned their mysterious designs.

But they were distracted now, and she carefully let herself sit back, compliant but observant, rising out of the void to look for any signs that might serve as telltales for others to notice. Surely Raw had seen, had understood that the voice used was hers, but the words were not… they were clever, oh so clever, far too clever to live… or so the Witch had thought. That's why they'd been destroyed.

But was 'destroyed' the right word for _this?_

-…_What about her magic?-_

_**What about it? **_

_-Can we use it through her, as the vessel?-_

_Don'ts we need the knowhow or somethin'?_

_-She already has it, doesn't she? We just have to… _extract_ the information from her mind.-_

_**It's worth a try… let me do it! I want to have the honor!**_

_Yer enjoying this a bit too much, ain'tcha? _

_-Quiet. Let her have her fun. There's no real harm in it so long as she is careful. We don't want to unduly damage our hostess, now do we?-_

_Y'know, it's really kinda weird bein' inside a girl an' all…_

_**Silence, both of you! I need to concentrate…**_

One of the forces rose up inside her, bubbling forth like liquid magma as it burned trails through her thoughts; the sensation of river leeches slithering across bare skin, spreading their sharp toxins to numb the nerves and penetrate the pores paralyzed Azkadellia almost completely. She had enough reserve strength to dig her fingernails into the arms of her vanity chair, using that pain as a focus to keep herself centered and aware.

As she watched, the surface of the mirror in front of her began to ripple like the waves of Finaqua's lakes, and she almost breathed a plea to Glinda for deliverance from this evil, but hadn't the strength to speak. Her own image, through the machinations of this internal force, faded completely away, revealing a distant vista half the realm away.

The image began roaming, whispering sounds of grass and trees rustling in the wind only just audible, shifting and twitching between views too fast… too rapidly… and soon the focus halted, but the staggering halt was too much to bear — Azkadellia's gag reflex kicked in, and she retched violently over her knees, hot tears stinging her eyes.

As if startled, the forces within her weakened, became murmurs, and grew silent. Perhaps the sensation of their brute-force magic attempts had stunned them, as well. If nothing else, it gave Azkadellia a moment to collect herself, replay the vision in her mind, searching desperately for any answers.

What — or who — were they looking for?

* * *

_Thwack. Slash-thunk. Thwack. _

"Um, DG, I don't think that hitting the trees is any good for the blade."

"Mmmmf." _Slash. Ker-thwip. Thunk._

Glitch gave up, no more pleased than she that although they'd escaped the snow of the mountains, the pouring rains of the Gil'kin forest only drowned any cheer their spirits had hoped for. At least here the trees didn't move or throw things at the unwary, but their thin foliage did little to shield them from the downpour.

Looking ahead, Glitch could barely see Cain's silhouette leading the way, steadfast and so stupidly stubborn to make them continue tramping through the muck on the poor horses. Toto's little dog nose poked out from a small carrier behind Cain's left knee from time to time, but his perch remained limited from being strapped to the side of a horse. Dorothy herself only knew why Cain had allowed the shapeshifter to settle there, but Glitch figured it had something to do with trusting the tutor again. Even after all their battles together, even DG had found difficulty in forgiving the betrayal.

Attention returning to their weather-based misery, the advisor scowled at the clouds, easily visible through the treetops. The forest held no real shelter from the elements; they'd end up either sitting under the trees and getting drenched, or moving toward a place possible hours away where they _might_ find respite. Glitch's knowledge of OZian geography remained bare bones at best, but he did recall (with immense amounts of reminding from Toto at mealtime) that just south of the forest sat the Abandoned Railway. From there lay only a half-day's ride to Lake Chorge and the Royal Tomb, nestled at the base of the Madeleines Range.

DG continued to swat at passing trees with her weapon, drawing another sigh from her bemused swordmaster. "How's the Emerald?" he asked, inclining his head towards her largest saddlebag. She glanced down at it, momentarily halting the assault to consider, and finally decided to sheathe the foil; Glitch didn't bother to hide his relief.

The youngest princess had found trouble in trying to handle the gem without gloves; like her mother, it had tried to burn her bare hands with its sputtering energy. Even more potentially dangerous were the unpredictable flashes of light it emitted, more than enough to signal their location to any stray Long Coat renegades, predators, or other undesirables. And so, after a long evening session with Toto about how to disguise the Emerald from spying or prying eyes, she'd spelled the saddlebag to mask its magic. Anyone not DG herself who looked inside or even rummaged around in the bag would see nothing but raw foodstuffs, and Glitch felt his eyes unfocus from the stash and begin to wander despite himself towards the left — another nifty side effect of the spell — as she pulled on a glove and stuck her hand inside.

A moment of grunting, and she gingerly lifted the tiny thing between two fingers from the bag, ready to drop it once more if it started to act funny.

"It seems calmer," she noted, bringing it closer. Glitch leaned in, too, still curious about how such a tiny thing started so many wars in the O.Z. and nearly tore the Royal House of Gale to shreds.

DG frowned at it, brushing a damp tendril of hair from where it had blown onto her forehead. Blue eyes dimming, she seemed to drift away from the "here and now," her attention wandering miles, if not worlds, into the distance. Her head cocked, as if listening to an inaudible conversation, and then the moment snapped, consternation sparking in her features.

"It used to whisper things. Things that could help me, visions of myself in the future," she explained after a moment, realizing that Glitch still stared at her. "But now it's like… I dunno. A scattered cacophony, maybe? It's like the speakers keep shorting on a song, so sometimes it jumps back on and you hear the screaming of the guitars and the singing, but then sudden silence. I don't get it."

"Well, one thing's for sure, I don't want to know what kind of music you listened to back on the Other Side," he commented dryly, bringing his horse closer so he could see. "What about its power? Can you feel or channel any of it?"

Her head shook slightly. "No. Sometimes there's a flash of energy, like when it goes firecracker on us, but other times nothing." Pause. "I wonder if it's dying?"

A part of Glitch's heart froze at that thought. "DG—"

Before he could finish, her horse chose that moment to trip over a loose root, slipping in the muddy earth beneath — DG barely stifled a shriek as the emerald slipped between her fingers, out of the glove, past the saddlebag and somewhere into the tramped-on grass.

"Crap!" DG tugged the reins as hard as she could to halt her horse, but the poor gentle paint jerked with surprise, rearing instead and sending its rider tumbling off its rump.

Glitch reacted blindly, shouting at Cain to stop as he leaped off his own mount to help.

"Princess!" Luckily, the horses had moved out of the way, averting any danger of stomping on fallen riders. Glitch knelt down next to DG, visibly checking for broken bones. "Are you okay?"

"Unless you're talking about the countless bruises to my butt _and_ my pride, I'm fine, Glitch. God, I'll never be able to sit down again...! Owww..."

He sighed in relief, glancing up when he heard yapping barks from up ahead. With Cain close behind, Toto scampered through the grass and trees, wet fur sticking to his tiny body and reminding Glitch of a wet rat. The smell wasn't much better, too, and he sneezed delicately, earning a growl from the shapeshifter.

"What happened?" Cain demanded, promptly holding out a hand to hoist DG back to her feet. Still off-balance, Glitch watched her stumble and trip into the Tin Man's arms, feeling a flash of something skitter across the back of his mind. Probably concern, or maybe even humor, considering that though Cain caught her easily, his beloved coat was now covered in wet forest goop. Yup, that had to be it. Goopy coats meant lots of incredibly funny teasing later, even if the one picked on carried a pistol.

"DG?" Cain asked again, this time more gently. "What happened?"

"I fell, okay?" she mumbled, her head lowered in shame. "I was talking to Glitch, and then I — WAIT! The Emerald!" she gasped, pulling away from Cain and starting to rummage around on the ground. "I dropped it somewhere! We have to find it!"

"You _dropped_ —" Cain began, and stared an inferno at Glitch. The advisor held his hands up in a "no way, not me!" gesture, turning his attention deliberately to helping his Princess find her pretty — and dangerously powerful — bauble. He heard the Tin Man curse under his breath and drop to the ground to help, his knees sinking at least an inch into the mud with the rest of them.

* * *

DG would have gladly laughed at the party's state of dishevelment, if she hadn't been so relieved to finally find the Emerald of the Eclipse. She could start a whole new line of fashion in just shades of brown, cheaply made with eco-friendly, biodegradable materials from their very own Gil'kin forest! They could bring tons of money back into the economy, thanks to the crazy "Other Side" fashions of the youngest princess!

Somehow, DG doubted her mother would be pleased by the prospect. Imagining the look on her face made up for it, though.

Anyway, Toto had been the one to locate where the Emerald had rolled next to a pile of stones, all of the mud and dust and pieces of grass masking it from all but the most discerning view. She'd have to ask him later whether he actually _saw_ it or just smelled it; the latter seemed much more likely. Her hand, wrapped in a piece of cloth torn from someone's filthy raincloak, clasped the gem tightly, more than afraid to lose it again. It hummed slightly within its confines, but no power or light leaked through the fabric.

The rain had slowed, a second small blessing, but DG's horse had apparently tried to flee the scene after throwing her off, and Cain had gone to find it as soon as their search had ended. She and Glitch sat huddled beneath the largest tree along the path, Toto curled up and shivering in between them.

"Cain's been gone a while," she muttered, eyeing the empty path with a shiver. "I didn't think old Misty wandered _that_ far."

"Who knows? I never understood horses, myself," Glitch admitted. "Made me jittery even before my little operation."

"Yeah, I could see that. I'm a bit jealous of the fact that Cain can handle them so easily."

"Hmm. I guess it comes from being a Tin Man."

"You think so? I didn't see many horses in the City."

"Well — yeah, that's true too. His childhood, then? He did live close to the East, where there aren't really many roads."

"Mm. Could be. But he only lived there after he got married, right? I wonder where he grew up." She paused. Glitch gave her a sidelong glance, a smirk tugging his lips upward.

"Why all the curiosity about the Tin Man all of a sudden?"

"Huh?"

He jabbed her in the side with his elbow. "Come on, doll! You've never asked so many questions about him before! Why so curious?"

"I just —" a snapped twig broke the tension, and three pairs of eyes shot towards where Cain had disappeared, expecting to see the Tin Man emerge with the wandering horse in tow. But no one appeared.

"What was that?" Glitch muttered aloud, instinctively placing himself in front of DG, the trees at their back. A whisper of fear tricked down his spine, though whether his or hers he couldn't determine.

"Glitch?"

"Shh. Toto, stay near her. DG, power up your magic, just in case." A growl and a wash of warmth from the princess's light responded, and Glitch gracefully rose to his feet, one hand on the hilt of the sword at his side.

"Cain?" he called, eyes narrowed. "That's not funny. Did you find the horse?"

No response.

"Cain?"

Hoots similar to an owl's echoed around them, and more twigs crunched nearby. "_Quiet now your noisy cries — I've found myself a trio of spies!"_

"What the—" the voice, seemingly from nowhere, vanished as quickly as it had risen, but something sharp collided with Glitch's temple, knocking him into unconsciousness before he could locate the source. The last thing he heard — aside from his cursing Wyatt Cain — was DG's surprised yelp.

* * *

_Author's Notes: At long last, chapter ten! I've finally hit my stride again in the last few days, after a lot of false starts and frustration. Because the last section was so short, I was determined to give you all a much longer installment this time around._

_Also, I wanted to thank you all for the support and patience you've offered; slowly but surely my routine is stabilizing with my husband away. I look forward to coming home from work and taking the opportunity to write; it gives me some much-needed sanity, and I look at the quiet house now as a writing haven rather than an empty place. _

_For some reason, Glitch really wanted the spotlight when I wrote this, so I gladly gave it to him. I didn't want to write a whole lot with Az just yet, but more will come soon. If anyone happens to get the science-fiction reference I'm obliquely making with her 'situation,' I'll give you a cookie =)_

_In case you were wondering, I've been gleaning my geography from a combination of the original Oz maps, notes/visuals from the Tin Man series, and the maps from _Wicked... _with my own twists, of course. _

_Next chapter: How will DG handle the ambush on her travel party? What do the forces warring inside Azkadellia plan to do with her magical abilities? _


	11. Chapter 11 - First Blood

_**Chapter 11 – First Blood**_

* * *

Cain counted himself lucky that the horse he'd chosen for DG had fewer brains than a Mobat; it made the old thing much easier to track through the underbrush. Trying to ignore the fact that he stank from the rain and digging in the mud for the most powerful item in the O.Z., he wiped his face with the last remotely clean portion of his sleeve. A rustling just ahead gave him pause, and a flash of white through a copse of kugberry trees signaled that he'd found Misty at last.

"Gotcha," he grumbled, stealthily working his way up to the horse before grabbing its lead rope from the saddle. Misty ignored him, more than content to continue munching on some ripened kugberries for the moment; already her lips had stained greenish blue from the rich juices. The Tin Man let himself sigh heavily, giving her a firm pat to the hindquarters before inspecting the saddlebags for damage. Everything seemed in order, he noted with satisfaction, and started to check the last leather fastener before realizing that it wouldn't close. A frown trickled across his face as he yanked at the strap, but something awkwardly shaped at the bottom kept it open.

Since the rain had stopped, part of him figured he should simply leave it alone and start back, but curiosity got the better of him. Tying Misty's lead rope to a sturdy branch, Cain unpacked the bag in a methodical fashion, giving passing scrutiny to each revealed item before moving onto the next one. Smuggled snacks and DG's beloved leather jacket emerged; none of these surprised him. He set it all down on a dry patch of grass and dug further, an eyebrow raising when he found a book shoved hastily into the bottom, stretching out the end of the bag. Well, that definitely explained why the darned thing wouldn't close!

"What's this, then?" he asked aloud, earning a derisive snort from the horse. He glared at it, suddenly suspicious that it was judging him. Tossing the thought inside as ridiculous, he packed away the other contents of the bag even as he inspected the book's outer cover, thinking that it might be borrowed from Glitch's collection, but found no title. He didn't find that unusual, either. Glitch carried around a lot of older volumes about history or engineering that had simple covers, and sometimes DG borrowed them for fun. In fact, Cain remembered her fiddling around with a book several times during the trip — this book?

Turning it over and leaning against Misty's side, he recognized the House of Gale emblem on the front and opened the book to a random page. Expecting to see paragraphs of text, he felt a jolt of surprise to see a meticulous, incredibly detailed drawing framed within the cloudy cream edges of thick paper. It took several heartbeats for him to recognize the scene — the late, great Mystic Man, lost in an introspective world of vapors in his theater dressing room. Cain remembered all too well the horrible bags under the old man's eyes, the paleness of his skin, the way his once proud back had wilted and curled under burdens brought by the Witch. The old anger began to return, but Cain tamped it down firmly.

He flipped to another page, feeling now a pang of blended joy and sorrow as the lines of his son's face scowled defiantly up at him. Jeb definitely had the Cain stare, blue eyes and all, but just about everything else — physically, at least — had come from Adora. DG had perfectly captured the rebellious teenager down to the childish jut of his chin.

_He used to do that all the time as a boy, when he didn't get his way. _Cain ran a finger across the page, cursing suddenly when the pencil started smearing. He rubbed the guilty finger on his pants, praying that DG wouldn't notice it later.

Who was he kidding? Of course she'd notice.

_I never realized how talented she is. _He wanted to look through more of her sketches, relive the moments she'd captured so perfectly on paper, but he knew that she and the others waited for him some ways back, and he didn't want to leave the group for long.

_Just one more,_ he told himself. The page had nearly turned to the next drawing before the book suddenly spawned other ideas, flipping neatly open to a spot near the end where DG had forced the spine flat in order to continue working.

If the first few sketches had seemed in any way incomplete or lacking that last spark to completely animate them, this one appeared so lifelike that it startled the Tin Man into utter stillness. A mirror image greeted him; but unlike the renditions of the Mystic Man and Jeb, this face looked far away to a spot off the page, deeply shadowed by a well-worn fedora. This one even had splashes of color, and Cain noted with some embarrassment that DG had made his eyes rather vividly blue.

A memory tugged at him — Adora had often wondered at the intensity of his gaze, saying that when he was thinking hard about something, his eyes "seemed to glow brighter than the sky." Was she right? Certainly the observation had merit, if someone else had captured it in just that way...

But Wyatt Cain wasn't a vain man.

He peered closer despite himself, noting after a moment that DG had scrawled a brief note near his shoulder: _Hiding again?_

Cain scowled. What did _that_ mean? From the look of his uniform in the image, this was a recent sketch — maybe even within the past few days.

Before or after she snuck into his office?

_Wyatt, learn to forgive. Don't bear their burdens as well as your own._

Another stab of guilt made him wince. Remembrance of Adora's voice had saved him too many times to count from going completely insane in the suit, and he no longer cared whether her chiding came from true memories… or if his conscience simply took on a welcome guise in order to be heard. It kept him connected to her, and that was the important thing.

_Why are you so angry? Because she nearly stumbled on your little secret?_

He pondered that. "She doesn't need to know," he murmured, all too aware that he spoke only to himself.

_Wyatt, she's going to find out eventually. All of you are out in the open wilds of the O.Z.; the chances that — _he silenced the voice instantly, and Adora's lilting cadence faded.

He _would_ keep DG — all of them — safe. No matter what. They didn't need to know anything was amiss. In the meantime, he'd have a talk with DG. Explain to her why he'd been mad. Yeah, that'd work. Sit her down and have a serious talk about —

"_**GLITCH!"**_ A scream reverberated through the forest, and Cain's blood ran cold. Not waiting for his stopped heart to start ticking again, he mounted Misty in one swift move and slapped her rump with everything he had, tucking the book safely inside his coat.

Horse and rider lurched forward, Cain's hand clutched to his head to keep the hat from flying off, ducking beneath low branches as he leaned against Misty's neck. He urged the animal forward with sharp hisses of breath, praying to Ozma that he didn't arrive too late.

"_DG!"_

* * *

The horses whinnied and reared, stamping the ground as they smelled the danger, struggling to free themselves from their leads. DG's hand tightened possessively over the Emerald, shoving it deeply into her pant pocket, cloth wrapping and all.

Glitch whirled towards the unfamiliar voice, then promptly crumpled and fell as a stone collided with his head, looking far too much like a broken rag doll. DG heard herself scream his name, Toto barking ferociously at her side. She felt his muzzle pushing at her hand between yaps, drawing her back to the here and now, and something in her snapped.

Shadowy figures hurtled through the trees all around them, hurling a volley of rocks and crude spears at the fallen advisor. They moved so darned _fast_, and she couldn't determine where they'd come from —

"STOP!" she shouted, splaying both hands towards her friend and praying that the light would spark in time. She felt heat pulsing through her fingertips, nearly burning her in the desperate effort. The projectiles continued to fall inexorably toward Glitch — and then abruptly stopped in midair before sliding onto the ground, harmless. Toto yipped in appreciation, scurrying to the perimeter of the invisible shield to inspect it. If DG looked at it just right, she could just see a pale glow in a perfect half-sphere protecting Glitch's prone form, but she didn't have time to think about it now.

"Critique me later, Toto!" she scolded, reaching for her sword to draw it even as the shadows drew closer, their yells and battle cries echoing eerily amongst the foliage. Her hand dropped to her hip, grasping for — nothing. She'd left the darned thing tied to Misty.

_Oh god, Glitch is going to fry me alive for that…_ what was she going to do? Grab a stick, start swinging, and hope for the best?

Toto barked again, dashing in circles around something partially obscured near Glitch's body as a new volley crashed through the trees at them. His sword! She raced for it, rolling on the ground to duck beneath a pair of spears. One grazed her neck, and she bit back a yelp, releasing the blade from its sheath and shifting into a protective stance near her friends.

"All right, you morons! Come and _get it!"_ DG challenged, swinging the rapier, pleased with the _swish_ it made in the air. Adrenaline coursed up and down her skin, drawing a rash of goosebumps while the thin cut on her neck wept blood onto her shoulder.

"Kill the spy!" a voice cackled.

"Kill the girl!" another added gleefully, and over a dozen colorful attackers thrashed through the bushes at her. DG didn't have time to gawk — she braced herself and _lunged_.

Clad in leather armor and painted with white patterns of traditional battle sigils, the three-foot-tall Munchkins scattered when her blade sang, landing a solid blow to an orange one's hand. He dropped his spear with a howl, but three more took his place, and DG fell back several feet, sensing the shield over Glitch mere inches from her calves.

"I did _not_ come all this way to be attacked by a band of SKITTLES!" she screeched, parrying another spear and cursing when a stone collided solidly with her hip. She braced further on her back foot, knowing it would mess with her balance, trying to take the offensive back and control the multicolored tide. But they had started to move around behind her, some of them shrieking "_MAGIC!_" as they tried to get to Glitch.

"Stone the witches!" some cawed, pulling slings from their belts and loading them with sharp rocks. Toto snarled and nipped their ankles, darting away before they could catch him.

"Get away from us!" she commanded, swinging the rapier with a spin, but earning a strike to her back in the process. She fell this time, the sword dropping from her hand. Toto raced to her side, spitting and growling at them with as much menace as a terrier cold muster. Once the circle had closed around them the Munchkins' cries slowly silenced, replaced by hissing leers. Their leader emerged from the rear of the pack, a full two inches taller than his fellows and a bright green to match the forest leaves.

"So here we see the spies are three — surrender your weapons or you'll not like what happens!" he spat, drawing a dagger from his belt and thrusting it at DG's throat.

Thunder cracked between the trees, and the dagger flashed before it vanished, spinning away into the grass and away from the princess. The little green man jumped a foot in the air, clutching his hand; the other Munchkins howled with indignation, turning as one to the source of the assault on their leader. DG spied him first, freezing in place.

"Cain!"

The Tin Man galloped full speed towards the clearing, bent low over the terrified horse's neck as he aimed his next shot. Even at a distance she could see the murderous intent in his eyes, and much as these half-pints annoyed her, she didn't necessarily wish a Swiss cheese death on them if they could avoid it.

Another bullet arced past, missing any sentient targets but causing a nearby sapling to explode in a shower of bark.

"_Now, kid!"_

Energy renewed, DG took advantage of her enemies' distraction, letting the light within her pool into her palms like warm water. She then forced the power to shift into something more dangerous, flickering like riotous flames in her hands.

"Hey!" she shouted for their attention, at the same time releasing bolts of golden light straight at their feet. One poor Munchkin was hit in the ankle and roared with pain, his face filling with wide-eyed fear before turning tail. Others looked frantically from him back to her, to their leader; DG let loose another bolt, and that was all the excuse they needed to scatter.

To his credit, the leader stood his ground a few moments more, giving Cain enough time to yank the reins and steer Misty into a complete halt alongside DG. The horse reared, and the last Munchkin finally faltered beneath a rainstorm of hooves, eyes nearly popping out of his head as he fled in terror after his minions.

Cain gave a final shot into the air, pistol raised to the sky and face ablaze with exertion as he waited for the last of them to vanish. Then his gaze fell to DG, and she stared right back up at him, trying to catch her breath as she did so.

"Cain— you're okay!" she tried to smile, and the Tin Man's frown deepened instead of lightening. Her own mirth faded — _what now? Did I do something wrong?_

"The Emerald?" he demanded.

Her hand fell to the lump in her pocket. Luckily, the Munchkins hadn't known about or noticed it — she had no idea whether they had magical abilities or could sense the thing. "It's safe. I've got it."

He dismounted in an instant, gaze dropping with alarm to her exposed neck. "They hit you?!"

She shied back, pressing a hand to the wound and wincing as blood continued to seep from it. At least the flow had slowed – a good sign. "It's shallow. I'm fine. Glitch —"

"I'm not talkin' about Glitch right now!" he snapped, snatching her hand away from the wound and ignoring her protests.

"Cain — I have to put pressure on it!"

His hand tightened over her wrist, and then his expression inexplicably softened. "Not with that hand you're not — it's covered in mud!" The ghost of a smile teased his mouth — likely the closest to an apology for his brusqueness that she'd ever get. "Come on, now, Princess, didn't anyone teach you first aid?" Not waiting for a response, Cain dragged her over to Misty, using his free hand to dig around a front saddlebag for the first aid kit each of them carried for emergencies.

DG heard movement behind them, and glanced over her shoulder to see that Toto had shifted back to his human form, trying to examine Glitch from outside the shield. A whispered command banished the barely discernible golden glow, and the tutor glanced up at her with a grim smile of thanks before tending to the advisor.

Coolness against her neck jolted her attention back to Cain, and a growing sting pulled several unladylike curses out of her rusty vocabulary. It still made the Tin Man whistle in appreciation, even drawing a chuckle out of him as the anesthetic ointment took effect.

"Sharp tongue there, Princess," he commented, drawing a clean dressing from the kit to lay carefully on the cut. He started to pull out the medical tape when DG cleared her throat to stop him, placing her hand over his and drawing on her magic for a moment. Light twinkled over their joined hands, and she pulled his away to reveal a glistening seal over the piece of bandaging.

"Comes in handy sometimes, this magic thing."

"That it does," he answered, that smile still tugging at him. They stood there for a few long seconds, some of the pent-up anger and confusion seeming to fall away as the battle high dropped. DG realized that she still held his hand and let it go quickly, hiding hers behind her back — it _was_ still covered in blood, after all.

"Sorry about that," she grinned sheepishly despite herself. She tried to ignore the tingling in her fingers. Tried to banish the flush she knew had reached her cheeks, or at least play it off as tension from the fight. "And thanks."

"What in the world for?"

"For riding to my rescue!"

Cain's features took on a pinched look, as if pained. "Not soon enough." His eyes seemed to pick out every bruise and scrape to her clothing and skin, and a part of her warmed at that — the old Tin Man seemed peer out from the "big bad Commissioner" guise he'd adopted. She'd missed that.

"It's fine, really. You totally missed my Jedi skills. Come to think of it, I bet I could make my sword into a kind of lightsaber! And—" She trailed off and rolled her eyes at his blank expression. "God, I have got to show you guys some movies."

* * *

_Author's Notes: New chapter! Yay! I wanted this one to go on for a bit longer but felt more of a break was needed before I embarked on the next section._

_I'm probably the only one, but I could totally imagine DG screaming "TASTE THE RAINBOW, $% & !" … buuuut I figured that it was too OOC and left it out. Attack of the Munchkins! I had a lot of fun with that — forgive me if anything came out sloppy, I proofread it three times!_

_To Lcsaf – I think he cares more than he wants to admit =) And I had to put in the "swing a stick" reference just for you._

_Next chapter (already working on it!) – We learn a bit of OZian history as it pertains to the Emerald and the original "DG" from Toto, the princess tries to pull a metaphorical stick out of a certain Tin Man's butt, and Glitch has an encounter with himself. _


	12. Chapter 12 - Trials of the Mind

_**Chapter 12 – Trials of the Mind**_

* * *

"How is he, Toto?"

"He'll be fine, DG, if we can just get him to wake up again," the shapeshifter assured, and the two shared a glance before looking down at Glitch. He had a nasty knot on his temple from where the rock had hit him, and DG really wanted to return the favor on whatever rainbow-sparkled treasure troll had pegged him. But they couldn't do anything about it right then; Cain had decided to give Glitch the night, sorting sticks and branches for firewood so they could make camp.

He never wandered far, though, and DG couldn't blame him; if he hadn't arrived at just the right moment, she didn't know what might have happened. Could she have summoned her powers in time? Maybe. She shuddered to think about how Munchkins treated "witches."

"Got the flint, Princess?" the Tin Man called, and DG nodded, digging into her pocket for a pair of stones before tossing them at him. He caught them easily, setting himself to the task. Toto looked on with some curiosity before focusing on DG again.

"You know, you did a pretty good job during the fight earlier."

"What, no criticism? Toto, you sure _you_ didn't get hit in the head?" she teased, glad that the darkening skies hid her flush.

"I've always said that you had good instincts, DG. Your focus is definitely improving, and the fact that you held a spell in the middle of combat says much for your control under pressure. We should definitely work on this."

"Sure, just let me go find another bag of Skittles to bash."

Toto laughed, shaking his head. "You really are very much like your mother. She had little patience for fools, either."

"The Munchkins are fools?"

Her tutor settled onto a tree stump, his head tilted back in a gesture of contemplation. "Maybe 'fool' isn't the right word for them — it certainly isn't the kindest."

"Tell me?" she asked, knowing it took very little to wheedle a story out of him. He made a vain attempt at giving her the stink-eye, but it dissolved into another chuckle.

"The Munchkins are are proud people, mostly from the East, as I'm sure you're aware. Farmers, mostly, or they used to be — that was before the Witch burned their crops and forced their reliance on her. Many fell into servitude, others became easy prey for her purges —"

"What do you mean?" DG cut in gently, settling down and hugging her knees. The Emerald shifted to an uncomfortable spot in her pocket, and she withdrew it with care, holding the wrapped gem in her hands again.

"Munchkins have a natural ability with certain magics. Basic tricks, mostly, and some become great illusionists, but a few had even greater aptitudes. Once the Witch returned to power, she remembered all too well how they helped your many times great-grandmother defeat her the first time. And so, she had the Alchemist and his assistants search their histories and genealogies to find the ones with the strongest magical blood…" he trailed off with a gesture, and DG swallowed her distaste.

"Makes sense," she mused. "The Witch comes back for revenge, takes out everyone who helped bring her down, and she figured she might as well take out any magical competition."

"A rather blunt, but accurate, interpretation," Toto replied with sadness. "As I was saying, however, destruction of both the Munchkin farmlands as well as the fields of the Papay ensured that most of the O.Z. would buy foods and rations from her personal stocks. If she were displeased or feeling particularly cruel, she would drive up the prices and force them to impoverish themselves or starve.

"But she underestimated the Munchkins greatly, DG, and you shouldn't make the same mistakes. They started disappearing from the census records mere annuals after your mother's reign fell — partially because the Witch didn't much care about the population, but many of us certainly noticed. Soon, the Resistance gave word that the little people had abandoned the fields completely, moved to the ancient forests along their borders, and begun treetop communities. After a time, they developed something they called 'canopy farming;' growing minimal-light crops within artificial hollows of larger trees, coaxing lowland vines to line their air bridges, as well as gathering and maintaining the existing fruits, leaves and edible flowers from the local treetop fauna. Slowly, they began to live off the land as they once did, though in a much different way."

"Wow. They really are smart," DG's eyes widened with newfound respect for the Munchkins. "I wish they would ally with us — that could be great for the kingdom!"

"Alas, DG, the Witch and Long Coats only increased their longtime wariness of 'full-size' humans into true paranoia. You saw the result of that today."

"Wasn't the first time, either, but they weren't quite so vicious before."

"It could be that they've heard of the Witch's fall at last, and are finally emerging to see for themselves. We're still quite far from their actual lands."

"When Glitch and I escaped the Eastern Guild's camp, I think the Long Coats cut down their trees…" her face crumpled, "because of me. Because they were looking for me."

Toto's large hand dropped to rest on her knee, squeezing it gently. "Don't start that now, Princess. It wasn't your fault."

"The Long Coats' very existence is my fault, Toto!" she shot back, tempted to physically shake off his kindness, but didn't dare. "I want to fix things."

"I know that… and I know better than anyone how maddening those feelings can be. But DG…" he waited until she looked back up at him before continuing, "there are some things in this world that you simply cannot control."

"So what do I do?" she asked, trying to hide the mist in her eyes.

"You focus on what you _can_ control." He gave her a lopsided, patient smile. "Come on, now, there's no need to cry, Princess. Like I said, we have to practice working on what we can control — like helping our friend here wake up and join us."

"Glitch?" DG blinked, the sheen of tears vanishing in the wake of her astonishment. "Toto, we tried the healing thing before, after the battle at the Sun Seeder — and I was completely useless!"

_More than that, in fact,_ she reminded herself glumly. _You ran away and threw up in the bushes until Cain had to come and find you! They had to shuttle you off to the least wounded so you could kiss their boo-boos and put the big band-aids on, you sissy. _

She winced, lips pressed into a thin line. "I can't, Toto."

"DG, any Sorceress worth her magic knows how to perform at least a basic healing spell. It was a mistake for me to force those teachings on you so soon after regaining your power, true, but I'm even more at fault for making you do it in the face of the terrible carnage —" he trailed off with a mournful shake of his head. "I'm sorry, DG. I truly am."

How in the world did her tutor turn this into self-blame party?! "No, Toto, I didn't mean that — I ran away like a wuss!"

"Would it surprise you to know, then, that your mother did the same thing after the war started?"

"WHAT?" Never. The Queen would never do such a thing!

"She did. Swear it on my own heart. She didn't make it very far after she broke down crying. She'd been trying so hard to heal a small boy who'd been wounded in battle, perhaps no older than thirteen."

"She let kids that young go to fight?" Thunderstruck, she clutched the Emerald to her chest, at the same instant hating it for all the trouble and pain it had caused this world.

"You misunderstand me, DG. That boy, like many others, had been forcibly drafted by the Long Coats to fight for them in the early years of the war. The Witch had kidnapped their families, and told them that if they didn't serve her, she would kill them."

"Mother…" she whispered, in awe of the Queen's courage and integrity. Not only a child, but a child who probably did everything he could to kill her, if it meant getting his family back. She'd tried to heal him anyway, and it had broken her.

Her face tightened, eyes lightly closed for a long while before she had the strength to open them again. "All right, Toto. How do I do this?"

* * *

"_Majesty!" a tall, lanky figure tumbled with a complete lack of grace through the throne room's doors, tripping over his own feet in his haste to return to his monarch's side. "I've only just returned from the City, and I heard the most terrible—" he stopped dead. _

_Indeed, the Queen sat upon the throne, her eyes cast down at him from its height, but they held no welcome, no recognition of his very existence. In fact, a shiver shot down his spine at the utter lack of emotion within her face but for the drying tracks of tears and a slight redness to her nose. _

"—_News…" he finished dumbly, no longer needing any sort of confirmation of the rumors. "B-b-but how did…"_

"_Evil, Ambrose," her voice emerged from parted lips, blank and lost amid a torrent of thoughts and memories only she could see. "Evil has taken my angel from me." _

"_My Queen, I…" Ambrose grasped for the right words and, finding none would even begin to suffice, dropped down on the frozen marble floors to lay prostrate before her. "Please, I… your servant wishes nothing but to do your will… make your request, any request and I shall make it so…"_

"_Kind, dear Ambrose," the tone had softened, though it cracked with heartbreaking restraint over the words. "Do rise. I'll not see you so. This burden is mine to bear."_

"_But Majesty — that's not true! The entire O.Z. will mourn the Princess's death!"_

"_No, my friend. I alone will face the Journey of Mourning. No procession shall mark this, as was once tradition. Glinda herself will judge my actions as she accepts the lost soul of my daughter into her keeping."_

"_I—" he stared up at his monarch, the begging plea to at least allow _him_ to join her on this journey about to escape his lips, but the resolve in her eyes forced it to wither, unspoken. _

"_Alone," she repeated firmly, only a shade above a whisper. Then, more loudly, "As a result of this tragedy… the Consort has taken his leave. The grief over our youngest daughter's death proved too much to bear. I will make this announcement to the people when the suns rise tomorrow, but this journey of mine will remain unmarked and unmentioned. Is that understood, Ambrose?"_

"_O-of course, Your Majesty…"_

"Glitch?" a voice drew him gently from the seas of memory, rocking him back to the surface of consciousness. Something in him expected pain upon this waking, but he found only the slightest ache in his head.

His head…

That voice was —

"My Queen!" he shouted, sitting up as though tiktok springs had released beneath his back, and nearly fell right back down; black spots of dizziness shrouded his vision. He blinked several times, forced himself into a focused state, and stared at the dark-haired woman by his side.

He recognized the heart-shaped face, the expression of pure surprise on her face, the widened eyes of — blue?

"The Queen's eyes are _not_ blue," he stated aloud with prim dissatisfaction, then jerked upon realizing that he sounded… different. He wasn't sure how, and tried to keep hazy memories from surfacing to confuse him.

"That's right, Ambrose," a steady baritone replied, which he also recognized. His head clocked to the side, and though the face was older, more haggard, and had lost some weight — good thing, that, 'twas never too late to seek good health — he would know Tutor anywhere.

The girl continued to stare at him with her mouth open, making him bristle.

"I am _not_ some oddity at the circus to be ogled, young lady! Close your mouth and act your age. You'd think you were some five or six… year old…" the scathing scolding went dry and crumbled to ash between his teeth.

_By Ozma herself, she is the spitting image of her! But how — _

"Tutor… this is… this is…"

"Tutor?" the girl stared at her mentor now, lip quivering as though she might cry.

The shapeshifter glanced with deliberate slowness between them, and heaved a sigh. "_Ambrose_…" he stated the name firmly, with some hidden emphasis which held no meaning for the advisor, but apparently helped the girl, "it has been a long time, and I'm sorry that we've awakened you so. You may not remember her, so may I introduce the Princess Dorothy Gale?"

"Dorothy… DG?" Ambrose's own jaw dropped, not believing it despite having drawn that selfsame conclusion himself. "But you… are dead?"

"You're not the only one to think so," she replied wryly, sticking out her hand after a moment of hesitation. "But please, no 'princess' stuff — just DG. That's an order."

Ambrose felt extremely confused. First he wakes up in — where was he, anyway? A forest? What in the world was he doing in a _forest_? And now the Princess he specifically remembered being _dead_ now sat grown and gorgeous in front of him, and… he knew her?

"_Hi, I'm Glitch… on account of sometimes my synapses don't fire right."_

"_But rhythm… comes from the _soul_!"_

"_Y'know, Cain, professional psychiatric therapy is only a crow's call away these days…"_

"That's_ the Mystic Man? What's wrong with him? He's out of his mind!"_

"Glitch?" Prin— _DG_ — called to him, and again with the unfamiliar moniker.

"My name… is Ambrose…!" he answered through gritted teeth, holding his head in his hands. Those words he remembered were in his own voice, but he didn't remember saying them! And the cadence of the voice, the tone was all wrong!

"Yes, Ambrose, of course we know your name." Tutor again. A grounding, familiar presence. "DG, why don't you go and help Mr. Cain build the fire? Ambrose and I have some catching up to do."

"But—"

"I'm all right, Princess." Ambrose raised his head out of his hands just long enough to give her a wan smile. Immediately a frown darkened her features, but her lips cracked the barest acknowledgement before she turned on her heel to follow Tutor's directions. As she should.

As she left, the two men turned to face one another with purpose.

"Tutor, what happened to me?"

"Do you remember waking up the last time, Ambrose?"

"I—" he searched his brain, focusing on recollections of the Queen. His sense of time felt somehow skewed, but an image rolled forward of a workshop, and a Viewer.

"Yes… the Queen was there. She informed me… she told me that I had been… lobotomized… by Azkadellia's Alchemist and set free in the O.Z. until someone found me. And…"

* * *

"How's he doin', kiddo?"

DG slumped down onto the fallen log Cain currently used as a bench, sitting in a slouched fashion that would send her poor mother into fits. At the moment, however, she was very far away from her mother and probably didn't, under the circumstances, care what she might have thought about her posture.

"Something's wrong — I think I did something wrong."

"How d'you mean?" He clicked the flint a few times over some dry tinder, patiently blowing on it. Nothing yet. Still too damp from the rain.

"I mean, I wanted to wake _Glitch_ up — not this stuffy old dude!"

He gave a quick bark of laughter, unable to help himself.

"'Old'?" he repeated, sitting back and slapping his hands on his knees. "Is that what you think he is? So what am I, then, dodderin' and decrepit?"

"Your big words don't make you sound any smarter, only out of the middle ages," she quipped darkly.

"I think they make me sound distinguished."

"Try 'extinguished.' And you're missing the point — he's _Ambrose _now, and I want to get Glitch back!"

"I can see that. And you're half right — he does seem pretty stuffy as Ambrose. But you've gotta remember, DG, he spent more than half his life as this person, and he was this way long before he met you again."

"But what if he doesn't go back to Glitch ever again?" she cried out, holding her palms up to stare accusingly at them. "What if he never remembers who we are and what we've been through?"

"DG, look at me." She refused, continuing to gaze downward until he tossed a pebble at her foot. That got her attention, and he made sure to give her a half-smile that had always worked on her before. "Glitch — Ambrose — always seemed to me the kind of guy who bonded with people. Relationships with others are what make an advisor trusted and important. That said, he _will_ remember us, if only _because_ of what we've gone through. Besides, there was a lot bigger gap in the time between the Ambrose before and now."

"Maybe…" she sounded distant, and Cain fought the urge to roll his eyes at her dramatics. He couldn't stand it when she got depressed, and did the only thing he knew to make her feel any better. His arm reached out, linked into hers, tugged her across the log and into a quick hug. She fell easily into it, tumbling against his chest awkwardly before settling, pressing her cheek into his chest.

It had only meant to last a moment, but when Cain started to draw back, DG resisted, tugging on the lapels of his coat and sniffling. _Ah, damn…_ the girl was crying. He hated tears.

Or maybe he just hated sappy stuff in general. Too messy. But then again, his coat wouldn't magically become clean anytime soon after the tromping through the mud he'd given it.

Against his better judgement, he sighed and let her cry on his shoulder, wrapping his arms around her for comfort. Between being thrown from her horse, the fight, using her magic to wake up Glitch in the first place, and then finding Ambrose instead … the day had probably taken a bit out of her.

All right, more than a bit.

_Adora rarely cried, not even when Jeb was born,_ he mused, and scowled the moment it crossed his mind. _Where'd that come from?_

He wanted to say something, anything to help DG stop the waterworks, but nothing overly impressive came to mind. Tin Men didn't exactly receive training on how to deal with these things, though Cain had had to face some upset family members and victims in his time.

Generally, he left those situations to his more empathetic colleagues while he caught the offenders who'd harmed them. Much better for his direct, abrupt nature.

"Deeg…" he began, but the head on his shoulder shook slightly.

"Just… give me a minute… please?" she didn't lift her head, forcing a calm she clearly didn't feel into her voice. And so Cain nodded against her hair, tightening his grip and waiting until she felt ready to talk.

In the meantime, old habits let him use the quiet moment to run back through the day. Without hesitation his brain halted at the period of time he'd spent away from the group, looking over DG's smuggled sketches.

Remembered her scrawled note on the side of his face: _Hiding again?_

Reluctantly felt the implication of his half-promise to talk to the girl about… well, to clear the air between them.

He must have tensed up, for felt the hand in his shirt loosen; he glanced down to see one blue eye, watery and shining with yet-unshed tears, watching him in silence. Her bangs sat messily over her forehead, some plastered to her cheek from crying.

_Hard to believe she's old enough to rule the O.Z., lookin' like that._

"Cain?" she murmured, and the Tin Man paused, realizing that he'd raised a hand to brush hair out of her face without any awareness of it.

Clearing his throat, Cain finished the action he'd begun with deliberate care, offering a wry half-smile. "Can't have the Court Sorceress lookin' like a girl who's lost her boyfriend," he joked, but the words came out flatter than intended. But DG, bless her, had understood his meaning, and smiled back, rubbing her eyes but not moving too far away from him.

"Sorry," she murmured. "I know you aren't big on the touchy-feely stuff. I usually have Glitch for that, but he's —"

"Indisposed," he finished for her, lip twitching downwards at her comment about the zipperhead. Why it bothered him, he didn't really know, but also didn't stop to analyze it right then. "Just never been that kinda guy, DG. But I don't want you thinkin' you can't come to me about things, either."

"I know that. I just… well, you've been busy…?" the end of her statement lilted upwards into a hesitant question, and he felt his expression shift with unease.

He had no idea what kind of look he had given her right then, but it was enough to draw a giggle out of her, forcing some indignation into his posture. Cain did not, however, move away or let her go despite the discomfort of her poking fun at him.

_Gotta make up for being a jerk somehow… Here goes. _

"Deeg… look. There's a lot goin' on behind the scenes that a lot of people don't know about—" DG started to say something, probably resentment, but he raised a finger to silence her. "Stop. Let me finish without interruptin', okay?" At her clipped nod, he went on.

"We're trying to keep you safe, but you've gotta trust us sometimes and… not go pokin' your nose into things. That's all."

Understanding dawned on the princess's face, then flared into anger. All thoughts of letting him finish evaporated in her next outburst. "You mean you've been mad at me for _that_ this long? Cain, it's been over a week since I picked your office door!"

"And I'm doin' my damnedest to explain why, darlin'!" Exasperation mixed with frustration, and he grasped her shoulder firmly. "_Listen_ to me, Deeg, and not just hear my words! You've gotta stop tryin' to worm your way into places that you shouldn't be… you might end up getting hurt. The stuff I'm workin' on… _that's_ my job. The job your mother gave me. I gotta do it my way."

"But you didn't even want the job!" she protested. "You, sitting behind a desk all day? You, organizing and giving orders that you're not following yourself? That's not you, Cain!"

"That's the way it's gotta be."

"BULL."

The word, fervently said and even more deliberately cut off before it could become profane hit him like a slap in the face. Before he could react, DG had pulled away from him and stood, looking down at him with hellfire spitting from her lips.

"You wanna know why I tried to bust in that dinky little office of yours? Which, by the way, was _not_ the office Mother intended to give you, but you already knew that, didn't you? But apparently you refused _everything_ else.

"I wanted to see if I could find out what was _wrong_ with you, Cain! It's like… you were granted this great and official title, and you disappeared from our lives — you might as well have gone anywhere else in the O.Z. for all that we really saw you! You didn't even know —" she trailed off, and Cain could see the hurt tightening her expression.

"Not so once-upon-a-time, you would've been the first one to find out something had gone wrong, and stayed by my side as much as Glitch or Raw until things got better. But where were you when I failed to help Az and fell into a stupid dream-coma? Why did it take _Glitch_ of all people to fill you in _after the fact _once you'd decided to emerge from the Bat Cave, Bruce Wayne? Where've you been when I needed to rant at somebody about stupid lessons, the ridiculous politics of this place, or laughing about how I stepped on someone's foot while dancing _again,_ or just being there when I didn't need you? Just… _why_, Cain?"

"…" Shame filled him, kicking him in all the sore places and then spitting on them too, for good measure.

_Tell her, Wyatt,_ Adora's voice murmured in his ear. _She deserves to know the truth._

_Tell her._

"DG, I'm sorry."

Silence lingered, and Cain could almost feel the temperature dropping several degrees around them. "Is that all?"

He blanched. "What d'you mean? I just apologized!" Which was something he'd maybe done a handful of times in his life. Didn't she understand the significance of that? "What do you want from me, Princess?"

"An _explanation!_ What in the O.Z. is so hush-hush horrible that you have to keep it from me? You, Raw, Glitch — you're my _best friends,_ and probably the only real ones I've got here! If I can't trust you…"

"Hey, wait a minute!" the words dropped too sharply for him to take back, and time repeated itself as he found his hand grasping her wrist. "That's not fair, DG, and you know it."

"Life's not fair, Tin Man!" she shot back, slapping him on the arm, then freezing as what she'd done sank in, stepping back warily. Cain gave absolutely no reaction at first, even though he'd seen the glancing blow coming. He actually felt an edge of surprise that his own temper had held steady against hers.

"You done?" he asked after several heartbeats, gently. She nodded.

"Good. Now do I get t'defend myself?" Another nod.

"All right. Now, I probably deserved that—" he pointedly ignored her snort of agreement, "—but with that said, DG, when a man offers you his apology, chances are he means it, without any 'if's or 'but's about it, understand?"

"…yes." She tugged slightly on her captive wrist, but he neither tightened nor loosened his grip, keeping eye contact with his princess while he had it.

"Deeg, I messed up. I can see that. But at the same time, I _wasn't_ assigned to your protection detail at the Palace. It wasn't my job to keep tabs, though I did it anyway. Honestly, I didn't think you'd noticed." _Lame, Wyatt. Who are you talkin' to, again?_

"But the last couple weeks something's popped up. Somethin' I'm really concerned about. And that's the biggest reason I'm here protecting you now. We don't have enough Tin Men on the force yet to let me trust anyone else with you and that temper of yours. You'd burn 'em to a crisp on the first day."

Her gaze fell. "Guess I did act like a spoiled teenager a little bit."

"A 'little bit,' darlin'?" he teased, ducking his head to regain her attention.

"Okay, a lot. And I'm sorry, too, Cain. I wasn't trying to infringe on your privacy on anything like that. Honestly, I was looking for you."

"That much I'd gathered."

She scowled at him as if she looked at a slow student. "You spent so much time in there I was afraid you'd fallen asleep or something. And once I'd gotten myself in there I… got curious. You found me less than a minute later, so no 'big dark secrets' uncovered."

"You were worried about me?" he asked, an eyebrow raised and a corner of his mouth perking up into a smirk. "Really?"

Which immediately made her roll her eyes at him. "Good grief, here I am spilling my guts to your thick tin skull and that's all you get out of it? Have a whopping ego trip, two oblivious pills and call me in the morning, 'cuz I'm done with this day."

"So… you _weren't_ worried?"

"_Cain_—" she yanked her wrist just as he let go of it, falling right on her butt for the second time that day. The Tin Man stared down at her, the smirk growing full force until he couldn't contain his chuckling anymore.

_The O.Z. is definitely not ready for a princess like her, but I'm sure as hell glad we've got her._

"It's not funny!" DG glared up at him, wincing as she rubbed her backside.

"Princess?" a voice chimed in, and Cain whirled to face the newcomers, one hand already halfway on his gun before he recognized Tutor and Glitch — Ambrose — approaching. That hand shifted to instead extend down to DG, who took it and pulled herself up to both feet.

"Ah… yes?" she replied with less smoothness than usual, as if caught between royal formality and the usual playfulness she shared with Glitch. Cain didn't blame her one bit, and felt a bit of relief that he didn't really treat anyone differently… well, except DG and her family. Particularly DG.

More than likely, it was his ingrained respect for authority. Yeah, that had to be it.

* * *

Tutor gave her a careful appraisal, expression unusually unreadable as it slid in turn over Cain. DG bristled, knowing that the shapeshifter held something of a grudge against the Tin Man, and wished that he would just get over it.

A gentle throat-clearing brought all attention back to Ambrose, who seemed more than out of place.

_Funny, _she thought. _Even at his craziest, Glitch always fit in with us. I never thought of him as strange… he was just Glitch._

Hands twitching, face forced into featureless stone, a once proud advisor to the Queen gazed out at the scene surrounding them with no small measure of anxiety. Had he — as Ambrose — ever gone out into the O.Z. like this? DG figured not, and made an effort to help him feel at ease.

"What can I do for you, Ambrose?" she asked with a kindness that felt soft, more royal than her normal attitude.

Tutor spoke for him, however. "I have explained our situation to Lord Ambrose — completely — and he wishes to consult with us on our next steps, Highness."

_Highness?_ DG cringed.

"I-indeed," Ambrose himself finally jumped in from a moment of distant distraction, a frown tugging his mouth downward at an odd angle. "May I first say, Princess, that the foolishness of embarking on such an endeavor as this without so much as a full escort moves to the realm of complete folly; the encounter with the Eastern Guild confirms this. Had you or your companions been less lucky, we would likely all be dead by this point."

Behind her, DG felt more than heard Cain's growl of protest, and backed up a half step to physically place herself between them. Of course Ambrose would _know_ about who her "companions" were, but probably didn't completely understand _who_ they were.

She cut Cain off before he could bite out a scathing retort. "Ambrose, your guidance is appreciated. But you have to understand that this mission began with the blessing of my mother; she let me choose whatever means I needed to reach our goals, and I couldn't think of anyone I'd rather have with me than the heroes of the O.Z."

That seemed to satisfy him somewhat, but he asked, "And what of the Viewer? Surely he would have been a much better choice as travel companion — he could heal out wounds and be placed on nightly watch to ensure our safety. Such is the role of a Viewer."

"Sounds dangerously close to somethin' the Witch might say."

Everyone blinked and looked at Cain with various degrees of incredulity. Ambrose himself broke the silence first, reminding DG of an angry bird in the way he puffed out his chest with indignant fury.

"Are you implying something, sir?"

"Implying? Nah," the Tin Man drawled slowly, dragging his last vowel in a dangerous, lazy manner that DG had only witnessed once before. "More like pointin' out that your headcase self seems to've knocked your screws loose."

DG felt, rather than saw, Ambrose's anger rising, and squashed the urge to kick her guardian in the shin even as she pasted a placating smile on her face. "Ambrose, please ignore Mr. Cain. Raw had his reasons for wanting to stay at the palace, and I respected them."

Ambrose's eyes didn't veer at all away from Cain, dark in their anger. "I see. Perhaps you were right to do so, Highness, but there's no way to know at this point. Again, we were lucky."

DG chose to nod, waiting for him to continue but stepping a bit more in front of Cain in an attempt to regain the advisor's attention. Cain himself had taken to ignoring them altogether, staring off into the trees with a calm hand resting on his pistol.

Not bothering to hide his contempt, Ambrose finally cleared his throat and focused once more on his charge, giving a slight bow as apology. "Pardon, Princess. Might I suggest that we continue onward to the Tomb with some greater haste? I fear that though you were successful in driving off a hunting party, others might soon follow?"

"Even so far away from their land?" Tutor asked, frowning.

"Yes. Munchkins often hunt at great distances from their homes to ensure that Long Coats or other enemies cannot easily find their tree villages. They're a very suspicious and paranoid lot."

DG snorted. "I'll say." She turned to Cain to ask his opinion about when they could get started again, but he had completely tuned them out. Upon closer inspection, she realized that the hammer of his pistol had been drawn back, the gun half-drawn from its holster as his blue eyes continued to stare forward.

"…Cain?" she began, but the smallest shake of his head silenced her. No other acknowledgement came, and even Tutor and Ambrose fell into a tense quiet, watching the Tin Man watching… whatever it was he saw in the distance.

A bird, flushed from its grounded nest, fluttered out of the grass and flapped itself airborne. Less than a second later, a flash of silver and the crack of a shot broke the quiet into several heartbeats.

The shot came first, drawing DG's surprised gaze along the bullet's path.

_Thump-thump._

An arrow sliced through the air with deadly accuracy, moving straight towards DG and whistling as it left the archer's bow. A flash of red retreated into the shelter of the trees.

_Thump-thump._

No sound after Cain's shot; everything had fallen still but for that arrow. Leaves and grasses whispered with urgent hisses, stinging DG's ears with the hum of danger. Ambrose may have said something, but the pumping adrenaline drowned it out completely. The arrow streaked closer, colorful fletching mesmerizing her attention.

_Thump-thump._

Motion re-started — DG's head turned towards the arrow, and Cain's toward DG. Toto opened his mouth to shout, but too late - Cain reacted first, acted decisively, ducking his head and lunging at her with a hand outstretched.

_Thump-thump._

Cain's hand connected with her shoulder. DG's momentum pulled her towards the ground, her vision tilting sideways.

_His fingers are warm. _The thought, absurdly inappropriate considering the time and place, still rang as a chiming bell through her conscious brain, too quickly shattered as another shot sent furious thunder ripping through the trees. A shrill cry followed.

_Thump-thump._

She rolled in the grass, and Cain was suddenly there, protectively standing in front of her with weapon aimed at the spot from where the arrow had flown. Ambrose and Tutor lay on either side of her, the former's hand pressed on the same shoulder that Cain had shoved out of the way. She could hear grunts of pain all around, and the shuffling of someone who'd fallen onto the layer of dead leaves amongst the distant underbrush raised her head. Time began anew.

Cain let out a breath he'd held, lowering his weapon with a quick glance and a smirk over the collar of his duster. "Well Ambrose, looks like you were right about something after all. The Munchkins were so paranoid, they sent a scout to spy on us after we'd chased 'em off." His gaze fell to DG, and she noted a fierce glaze in them, probably from the adrenaline, or maybe protectiveness? She had no idea.

Ignoring their other companions, the Tin Man held out a hand to help her up. "Well, Princess, should we go and collect our prisoner?"

Blinking, she took it, relishing the sturdy grip clasping her fingers as she hauled herself to her feet. "What happened to —?" she asked, and stopped to follow his nod to a spot in the grass only a few short feet away. The fletching of an arrow meant for her waved in the breeze, painted in the wild colors of the Eastern Guild. Her grip on Cain's hand tightened slightly without thinking, but when she tried to let go, she noticed his knuckles had whitened over her own.

"Cain?" she murmured quietly, unable to read his expression.

"You okay?" he asked in return, voice pitched low so only she could hear. At a nod, he released her, straightening and turning his attention to reloading the pistol.

Wondering at his actions, DG heard Tutor grumbling as he rose from the grass, and pushed all thoughts of Cain aside as she turned to help him.

"I think we got him," she said quickly, but the old man shook his head, expression laden with reproach.

"That may be so, DG, but I hope this doesn't spark further hostilities. I'm surprised that Mr. Cain noticed him at all — remember that Munchkins choose their scouts based not only on their stealth, but their best ones can also use illusions and some shadow magic."

"We'll not be fooled easily, I should think," Ambrose replied, dusting off his jacket and trying to look less flustered than he appeared. "If a Tin Man could sniff him out, he may be a less than competent specimen."

Cain, still within easy earshot, whirled to reply, but DG gave them both a harsh glare before stalking off towards the woods. "I don't really care about that — can we just go and make sure the guy's not bleeding out? Please?"

Not a one of her companions uttered a single word as they followed behind their fuming princess.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** At long last this monster is complete! I want to take a moment to thank all of my reviewers and followers for their patience with me this month. I'm currently in a strange spot at work where I technically hold three different positions at once, complete with the assignments and responsibilities of each. This means my days can be 12 to 14 hours long... and most of my time at home is therefore spent sleeping _ __However, I think that the pressure's finally starting to ease off, so I'm hoping that means I can update more frequently in the future. _

_With that said, I did my best to check for typos and grammatical errors - if I missed some, I'm sorry! 'Kora is a mite tired... _

_This chapter really didn't go the way I expected, but I'm pretty pleased at the way it turned out. A bit of OZian history here, some of Glitch/Ambrose's past there, and a dash of Cain and DG being very perplexed with one another. _

_**Next chapter:** Tensions rise between Cain and Ambrose, Toto's not helping, they now have a Munchkin captive, and DG's struggling to keep everyone from killing each other. We also return to Azkadellia's internal battle against the strange entities housed within her mind.  
_

_Hope you enjoyed the chapter, and look forward to the next one - feel free to feed friendly reviews to the muse! _


	13. Chapter 13 - Words, Words, Words

_**Chapter 13 – Words, Words, Words**_

* * *

"Oh, you have _got_ to be kidding me. _You _again?!"

DG's outburst came from a well of deep exasperation she'd been nursing for half the day. No… make it the whole day, for she noted out of the corner of her eye that the suns had nearly reached the horizon already. Shadows had already lengthened, casting strange patterns on the face and curled figure of the Munchkin in front of her, his teeth bared in a mockery of a trapped animal's twisted visage.

"Knows me, does she? Little witch remembers?" he hissed, one red hand clasping a wound only inches below one knee, the other held up against DG's approach in some sort of warding gesture, fingers crooked and thumb pressed to palm. "Keep back, witch of blue eyes! I fear not your wily tricks and lies!"

"First it's 'spy from the sky,' and now it's 'witch?' Really, you've got to come up with some better material, Short Round." Hands on her hips, DG fought back a mixture of emotion which warred between a giggle of amusement and a sigh of irritation. She wanted to come closer and try to dress the wound, maybe even take out the bullet, but knew better than to try. The bleeding had slowed, leaving the Munchkin weakened from fluid loss but more than likely still dangerous.

"You know him?" Cain asked from behind her, tone more than a bit incredulous.

"Yeah," she acknowledged dryly. "He and his blueberry friend threatened to throw Glitch and I to the flayer. Great time, sorry you missed it, it was such a party until the Long Coats showed up."

"They did?" Ambrose muttered, more to himself than anyone else present. Tutor yipped at his feet, tail wagging — he'd reverted back to his animal form in order to make their party less intimidating. More than that, the original troop of Eastern Guildsmen hadn't seen a fourth human during the attack, and Cain thought it best that it stay that way. DG couldn't fault his logic, but the look Tutor had given the Tin Man could have melted a glacier in seconds.

"_Led_ them there you did!" the scarlet creature bellowed, then winced as the sudden, jerky motions jarred his injury. "Those who could that day escaped and hid!"

This time DG gave into that sigh, closing her eyes in an attempt to find patience. "Look, I wasn't a spy for Azkadellia, and what's that matter now? She's not the Sorceress anymore, or haven't you heard?"

"Witch lies to Red Hat! I know better than to believe that!"

Ambrose stifled a soft gasp at the name, squinting as if he remembered something. DG waited, but he said or did nothing more, and so her attention returned to Red Hat.

"Look," she tried again, banishing her anger in favor of placation. "Sir, you're hurt. We'd like to apologize by healing your wound. Will you let us?"

"No! Trickery!" he spat, using his free hand to draw a knife. Everyone around her tensed, but the princess stood completely still, by all outward appearances unmoved by the threat. Or, at least _she_ thought so.

"You really wanna do this the hard way?" she murmured softly, and an idea triggered by the little man's obstinacy struck her like a brick. _Well… couldn't hurt to try…_

A glow sparked in her fingers, held behind her back to hide the signs of a spell. No need to make the Munchkin more overexcited and suspicious. Cain shifted closer to her, keeping his weapon trained on Red Hat.

"What're you doin'?"

"Trust me."

He didn't answer, which she took as simple assent, and let herself relax, letting out a careful breath. _This looked so easy in the movies._

"Red Hat, you can trust us. We're allies… friends. We won't hurt you."

Red Hat blinked several times, shook his head, didn't reply. If he lowered his guard at all, she couldn't tell. But the good news was that he didn't seem to be even _more_ anxious, so she tried again, pushing a bit harder.

"We're _not going to hurt you."_ She brought her hand out from behind her back, passing her fingers in a diagonal line between them. Red Hat seemed suddenly fascinated by this, his eyes widening.

"Not… going… to hurt me."

_Holy crap, seriously?! _It took everything in her power to stifle a grin. "That's right! You're going to let us _help you_."

"Need help… you help…?"

_These aren't the droids you're looking for. These aren't the droids you're looking for.__These aren't — _"You're really sleepy, Red Hat. Losing all that blood made you tired."

"I'm… tired. Too much…" As all watched, the Munchkin's head lolled forward, and barely a moment passed before they could hear him snort, cough, and begin to snore rather loudly.

Toto recovered from the shock first, yapping at DG as he circled around and around her legs, pawing her foot as he looked between her and their new captive. She glanced down at him with her biggest grin, shrugging for lack of a better explanation. "What? It worked, didn't it?"

"Sure did, Princess," Cain whistled appreciatively, one golden eyebrow raised in approval. "Remind me not to get on your bad side."

"Indeed," Ambrose added, stepping up to DG's other side with arms crossed. "I must say, I've never seen the Queen do something quite like that before."

"That's because my mother didn't get an Other Side education in pop culture," she quipped back. "Come on, let's take care of our patient before he sees what a nasty bedside manner I have."

* * *

She didn't think it was possible for them to _sleep._ After all, they shared her body, but remained disconnected, unbound from the necessary limitations of normal mortal beings.

And yet, they required rest. Dormancy. Azkadellia lamented that Ambrose had accompanied her sister in returning the Emerald to the Grey Gale; he might have been able to discern those limitations with greater clarity.

Currently, they slept, and much for the better, for Azkadellia did not relish the thought of their spying on her training as the Crown Princess. After several days holed away in her room, blaming recovery from her illness, her mother had very plainly put her foot down and all but demanded her daughter resume her rightful duties as the kingdom's heir. So, without any choice in the matter, Azkadellia steeled herself and did her best to both continue her training and keep as many details from the inner voices as she possibly could.

Their last 'intervention' had occurred two nights past, as they tried once more to harness her magical abilities for some strange purpose. Again Azkadellia had watched helplessly as the spell cast strange images from the O.Z. on the surface of her vanity mirror, endlessly searching. Forests, deserts, coastlines, fields — sometimes the vision paused in villages, checking faces and crawling through the homes of countless citizens, but never finding what they sought. Nor could she discern the source of their search, for they had taken to pushing her consciousness to a dark and formless place if she made her observations too apparent.

_Damn them._ She had difficulty even placing the disembodied voices to the faces of long ago, during her Possession… she knew one of them now, if only because his death had occurred so close to the Eclipse. That one, perhaps, she had regretted the most, for he had served her as loyally as he had her mother, before —

"Azkadellia?" her mother's hand covered her own, drawing her from the veil of darkness. She forced a smile, but didn't dark look up from the reports.

"Yes, Mother?"

"You've grown distant again, darling. Do you need to rest?"

"No," she shook her head stubbornly, making an effort to refocus. "I need to do this. I must make up for the atrocities I — _she —_ caused."

_And if I don't work now, they might learn more of the Kingdom than they need to._

From the corner of her eye she caught the Queen's soft look, and it made her heart quaver with its pure sincerity. Azkadellia knew that she deserved no pity, no kindness for the things she'd done… that _the Witch_ had done… and yet she had received so much of both.

_For there was a time when I gave up. I stopped fighting — because I knew that they all had stopped fighting for me. They fought against me. I had given up. The older sibling but the weaker sister caved to the Darkness and blanched from the Light — a shame upon the House of Gale —_

Her mother chimed her name again, and she sighed, glancing up at last to show the Queen her tears of frustration. "Perhaps I am working too hard?" she offered with the smallest shrug.

"My dear, you cannot hope to heal the realm in the span of a few months. Much of the rebuilding will take years. I know this is hard to face, but know that I will help you each step of the way, until the time comes that you yourself are Queen."

A chill ran down her spine, an old argument bubbling in her throat, caustic and rotten with self-loathing. "Mother—"

But the wise, lavender-eyed ruler stopped the tirade with a raised hand. "Enough. I'll hear no more of your arguments, Azkadellia. You shall be Queen, and your sister will support you as your Sorceress and second-in-command. This is what we agreed."

Oh, but she recognized the Gale stubbornness, the very same that had forged her own will and kept hope alive during the darkest annuals of the Witch's reign; Azkadellia knew that fighting her mother on this topic would bring down the wrath of _both_ parents, as well as that of her sister. When she returned, of course.

_Perhaps a change of topic is in order…?_ "Any news from DG?" she asked calmly, returning her gaze to the documents and skimming them quickly.

The Queen sighed, perturbed by the shift but seeming to welcome it nonetheless. "Not yet. Only a few days have passed, and I trust that her companions are keeping her quite safe."

"Hmm…" she paused, frowning and rereading a line of the page in front of her. "No… trouble in the south?"

A silver eyebrow arched at the waver in her voice, and her mother leaned forward to inspect the patrol reports herself. "Why do you ask?"

"Look," the princess pointed to a hastily-scrawled section, reading it again to ensure that she'd not drawn her suspicions in error. But the Queen's own face fell into a mask of half-horror, half-anger at the page, taking only moments to fume before she called imperiously for her advisors and her husband.

* * *

Some time later, Azkadellia had found herself none-too-politely excused from the proceedings, though her father had softened the blow by promising to fill her in later. The advisors had continually pored over the reports she'd found, half of them unconvinced by the scouts' words, and the other half as worried as the Queen herself.

Business as usual.

She was still frowning outside the closed doors when Raw discovered her, though she doubted it mere happenstance that he had arrived at precisely the moment she had exited the meeting.

"Worried." As always, the Viewer posed his questions as statements, never daring one to refute them, but simply offering to give someone's silent heart a voice. Azkadellia had shied away from Viewers as a child, curious but not wanting them to see her as… what? She couldn't remember now her childhood self, those memories muddled or lost to the Witch's manipulations. But during her recent convalescence from the Witch's possession, and despite the dark being's pure cruelty towards the pure souls of the Viewers, none had devoted more time, patience and understanding towards her than Raw. The irony did not escape her, but gratitude did guilt her into second-guessing her longtime habit of not facing herself.

"Yes," she answered at length, giving him a slight smile. "Something has happened in one of the villages near Lake Country. It was… disturbing, the report given by our scouts and patrols."

"Long Coats return?" he asked quietly, dark eyes narrowed. Azkadellia could only sigh and shake her head.

"We don't know. The Long Coats aren't the only unruly faction in the O.Z. at the moment. Some of the old Resistance fighters don't exactly agree with my mother's choice of heir." Her smile, weak and bitter, only made Raw's head tilt with concern.

"Azkadellia still so angry. Must let go of this. Witch's fault."

She rounded on him then, fists clenched at her sides, but deflated almost instantly as her display of temper had not moved him. Strange, for she remembered him to be a gentle creature, easily cowed by strong personalities.

_DG really does influence the people around her for the better,_ she noted at the back of her mind, considering the Viewer before her with more caution and less anger now. _Perhaps one day she can help _me_ heal._

"I…" she stopped, scowled, tossed stray locks of her dark hair behind her shoulder, tried again. "Raw, I'm sorry. I think I've been unkind to you lately, and you've been nothing but attentive and concerned."

No reply. Azkadellia glanced up, met his gaze, and felt herself shiver at the glazed expression on his mostly-human face. She recognized it as the heart-trance, which a Viewer entered any time they attempted to sense the truth within a person's soul. The empaths had learned never to do so with the Witch, for a great many of them had suffered such shocks as to stop their poor hearts at the pure darkness she'd held within herself. As creatures of Light, Viewers would simply be extinguished like candles in a hurricane.

_Or a great gale, the old hag would say. Like it was some wondrous joke she played on them._

But Raw's intensity held her fast, and he must have seen something which disturbed him, for he shook in place, swaying, pulling his hands to his face with a low groan.

"Raw?" she reached for his shoulder, realizing her mistake too late, for suddenly a rallying cry echoed within the confines of her brain, exploding outward in a cacophony and pandemonium of unintelligible shrieks, screams and cries.

_**THE VIEWER MUST DIE! HE KNOWS OF US!**_

"NO!" she gasped, throwing herself backward and away from Raw before they — before _she_ — could harm him. By the Gods, she never thought that anything could be worse than the Witch, but this _maelstrom_ of voices would simply drive her mad, where the Witch would simply push her into a tiny corer and forget about her, _oh someone please help me make them STOP!_

"Princess! _Princess!_"

Shouts. She could hardly hear them through the whirling howls, through the hot tears of agony burning tracks down her cheeks that must have scarred, for they burned her flesh in their escape to the light.

"Az?"

"Azkadellia?"

_-Look at how she falls to her knees.-_

"The Princess!"

_**Pathetic.**_

"Princess?!"

_Princess Azkadellia._

"Please…" she whimpered, shunning all contact, the hands reaching towards her met with snarls and snaps like that of a caged animal, but it wasn't _her,_ couldn't they see?!

"Please, stop them — make it stop! Mother! Mama, _please_!"

The voices and screams wrapped around her now, hisses and singsong, taunting and cackling, wrapping her whole into a serpent's constricting coils, choking away her voice and pinning her body into a tightening vise. Into the darkness they carried her, and she dug her heels into her Light, pleading with it to protect her, offer desperate purchase against this invasion.

And it answered.

The last thing Azkadellia saw before she unwittingly fell into the arms of her parents was a flash of gold, and the steady blue depths of DG's eyes, endless miles away.

* * *

Cain didn't relish the thought of babysitting someone else on this trip, but such decisions lay far above his pay grade. Nor did he feel comfort in the fact that Toto and Ambrose shared his displeasure.

The boss herself, in fact, had hedged when pressed about the plans for Red Hat of the Eastern Guild while he stayed magically unconscious, stating that she wanted to speak with him after his healing.

Healing a man (if only a half-pint one) that had tried to kill her without blinking an eye had roused a wave of intense discomfort in the Tin Man. He had long since stopped trying to understand the girl's way of thinking, but this certainly took the cake. Tutor had transformed back into his two-legged self to coach her through closing the wound, but only after she'd batted her eyes at Cain to complete the field medic role of pulling the bullet out of Red Hat's leg.

Yeah, _that_ had been loads of fun. _About as much fun as dancing into a nest of starving Papay._

Anyway, after several tries and a couple sets of dry heaves — during which time Cain had calmly patted her on the back as she hugged her sides in pain behind a tree — the princess had finished the healing spell, leaving only a small scar where an angry bullet hole had once glared angrily up at the dying suns.

Cain had taken his leave to finish setting up camp for the night, heating up a set of trail rations over the fire and keeping an eagle eye on the slumbering Munchkin. He'd just stuck a bit of softened jerky in his mouth to taste when the rest of the party returned from the edge of the clearing: Toto had returned to his canine self, Ambrose looked completely nonplussed, and DG rubbed her eyes with one hand, not bothering to hide her weariness. Cain didn't blame her, and moved over on the fallen log he'd sat on to offer her a seat.

"Dinner's almost ready," he announced, to which Ambrose made a less than pleased face.

"Oh, lovely. Chewy rubber and motor oil, by the smell of things. Didn't we pack any fruit?" he whined, drawing a growl from the Tin Man.

"We ate it all in the first four days."

The advisor sniffed with repugnance. DG raised her head slightly after plopping down next to Cain, lacking even the energy to look at them straight-on.

"'Brose, what's with the bug up your butt?" she mumbled, and Ambrose had the grace to blush at her forward question.

"I-I simply am unused to the idea of… 'camping,' Highness…"

"Glitch never minded."

Everyone stopped at that. Toto raised his head from where he'd been sniffing eagerly at the food, giving a soft whine after a moment's silence. DG didn't look up from staring at the fire, expression unreadable. Ambrose appeared to be searching for words, fumbling through various gestures such as straightening his coat and plucking his sleeves.

"…Princess, I..." he trailed off.

Normally, DG would speak up and offer comfort, or some Other Side joke to lighten the mood, but the clouds seemed to have settled fairly quickly over her, and Cain couldn't really tell if they had spawned from weariness or annoyance — or both. So he sighed, plated the food he'd cooked, and handed one to Ambrose first.

"Come on, guzzle your motor oil before it gets cold."

* * *

They ate in continued silence, which suited the Tin Man just fine; they hadn't had a good quiet time since start of the day, and he felt an overwhelming sense of relief when the stars began to peek through the forest's canopy above them.

_We should reach the Tomb in another two days, if we don't have any other trouble,_ Cain thought as he cleaned up the camp dishes as best he could with a rag and a bit of canteen water, deciding to give them a better rinse later. DG rose from her spot next to him, and he tried to ignore the sudden cold breeze from her motion.

"Best get some shut-eye," he advised gently. "Another early day tomorrow."

"Planned on it," she answered with the slightest touch of irritation, giving a lazy wave towards Red Hat. "The spell should keep him out cold until dawn, but wake me if he comes to before then, okay?"

"I _can_ question him, you know."

"Not without me, you're not. Playing bad cop only gets you so far."

"Always worked before," he quipped, the edge of his lips twitching into a slight smile. "Getting all cute and doe-eyed with pretty words really isn't my style when interrogatin'."

A giggle burst from her lips, and she covered her mouth quickly to stifle the noise. Cain tilted his hat up a bit to look at her, and was surprised to see a sparkle in her eyes that he hadn't seen in a while.

"What'd I say?"

She shook her head, still hiding behind her hand as she walked over to her bedroll. Toto had already curled up near the foot of it in a small nest of blankets, ears twitching to monitor the night sounds even in slumber. DG spared the shapeshifter a sleepy smile, and then murmured "G'night, Cain" as she pulled at her own blankets.

He mumbled something back to her, turning back to finish the dishes. By the time he'd packed it all away and threw another log on the fire, he could hear the girl's soft snores.

Ambrose, eerily quiet throughout all of dinner and afterward — by Glinda, did he actually _miss_ Glitch's prattle? — finally shifted, stretching his legs out by the fire. Cain watched him do it, observed him as he tilted his head towards the Princess, eyebrows furrowed in deep thought. They sat that way for a while, statues illuminated by the warm glow of flames and shadowed by the night's blackness all at once.

The advisor broke the wall first, crossing his legs at the ankles and folding his hands into his lap in a very Glitch-like pose. "So. Mr. Cain."

Cain arched an eyebrow at the formality.

Unbothered by the lack of reply, Ambrose continued. "I've been observing your behavior around the Princess today."

Silence.

"It seems that I don't entirely understand why you're here."

Now both eyebrows vanished beneath the brim of his hat. "Excuse me?"

A smile, none-too-friendly, appeared on Ambrose's face. "Based upon Tutor's explanation of you and your actions prior to the Eclipse, your loyalty despite not knowing the Princess's identity is to be commended. I agree with the Queen's decisions to reward your bravery.

_Not that I need _your_ approval,_ the Tin Man thought darkly.

"However, I fail to see what might possess you to come with us to the Grey Gale's tomb when a contingent of Royal Guardsmen would have easily accomplished the same job. And much better than the job you've shown, I might add."

Cain fought down a growl, eyes narrowed as he tried to discern this man's game. _Not Glitch,_ he reminded himself unnecessarily, but couldn't quite shake the discomfort of knowing that his friend and this man existed as the same person.

Even so, Ambrose was _not_ Glitch, and he therefore couldn't respond in the same way. His friend would have expected grunts of annoyance or a snappish reply and shrugged it off with a laugh. This man, though, trained as an advisor to royalty and knowledgable in the ways of a noble court knew how to manipulate and pull the strings of a man to get what he wanted.

Cain found that he suddenly understood DG's inner frustrations at a deeper level while formulating an answer to the unspoken question; he decided to counter with one of his own.

"Strange that someone like you is so interested in what drives a Tin Man to do his job."

Ambrose's head tilted slightly, the silver zipper gleaming in the firelight. "On the contrary, anything to do with the royal family is of great interest to me."

"Uh-huh." Time to set some bait of his own, and he smirked when the other man bit.

"Why are you so eager to stay by her side? Your job is over."

"If I remember correctly, Tin Men are meant to protect. Doesn't exactly matter who, so long as they need it."

"Tin Men were established within the city limits of _Central City._ You're a bit far from your jurisdiction."

"We've expanded. Tutor didn't say?"

A sniff of derision. "Quite. An admirable and perhaps wise move, but the fact remains that you're not suited for this, Mr. Cain."

He felt his nerves begin to rattle in a way that told him that if Ambrose didn't shut up soon, he'd end up with a black eye. "Get to the point, Ambrose. What's your beef with Tin Men?"

Brown eyes glittered with what Cain now recognized as distrust and fury, two things he'd never really seen on Glitch — the emotions didn't suit him at all.

"Tin Men were our first line of defense against the Long Coats, Mr. Cain. Tin Men were charged with the protection of the City, and keeping unrest from spilling out further into the realm. _Tin Men_ defected into the fledgling Long Coats, bribed or cajoled into the Sorceress's service and making her forces even stronger. _Tin Men_ betrayed the Mystic Man and led to his downfall. _Tin Men_ like you failed in your pathetic last stand against her army, and anyone who survived ran for their lives, never to return to Central City, leaving it to _rot_.

"So forgive me, _Tin Man,_ if I don't entirely trust you to keep DG safe. Nor, in fact, do I like how friendly and familiar you've been with her."

Cain's frown had deepened with each dagger of truth Ambrose had plunged into his heart, but his eyes had flashed into pure ice at his very last comment, stoking his fury more than the rest had. "_Friendly_ and _familiar?"_

"Indeed. It is highly inappropriate, especially since as a Princess, she remains locked into a station you cannot possibly achieve, and —"

"Listen, _Ambrose,"_ Cain cut in with a dangerous edge to his tone. "I don't know that you're tryin' to imply here, but you need to shut that prim n' proper mouth this minute before I do somethin' I'll regret _only_ because I'd never hear the end of it from DG."

"See? That's exactly what I'm talking about! This ridiculous attitude and readiness to violence —"

Cain rose to his feet with steady grace, one hand already clenched into a fist while the other tugged a shirtsleeve loose. Ambrose watched him do it with a complete lack of emotion, daring him to prove him right. He opened his mouth to say more when a sharp scream sliced through the air, and two pairs of eyes flew straight to the Princess's bedroll.

"DG!" they cried in unison, hurrying to her side.

* * *

_Author's Notes: I managed to update this week! Yes! *does a dance* So... various fun references in here, some obvious, some not, but hope you enjoyed them nonetheless! The first scene probably was the most fun to write, but I like just about all of this chapter. I didn't quite intend to leave it hanging like that, but figured it might be a good place to stop so I can collect my thoughts and give you all something to read in the meantime. __I'm finding that Ambrose is actually a lot of fun to write, but I'm hoping that Glitch comes back soon, because things are just too serious without him._

_A big thank-you to Lcsaf for pointing out a couple of character inconsistencies – when I have more time, I will try to go back and fix them. Also, thank you to all who reviewed and are now subscribing! Comments and criticism are always appreciated, especially considering that my usual tendency to read things over ten times before posting has waned in light of my current work schedule. _

_Next chapter: What DG saw, the fate of Azkadellia and Red Hat's interrogation. Will the party make it to the Grey Gale's tomb without any more major pitfalls, and can Cain keep himself from knocking Ambrose into next week? _


	14. Chapter 14 - The Dead and the Forgotten

_**Chapter 14 – The Dead and the Forgotten**_

* * *

Falling. Colors sped by too quickly to distinguish between them, becoming a muddled blur which hurt the eyes and strained the mind. Shutting her eyes didn't help, either, for the brightness bled through her eyelids and forced her to watch anyway.

And then the faces. The voices. Faded and blurred with hazy features, all seemingly filtered through… _something._ Just as maddening as the colors, she could focus on a visage for less than a moment before it morphed, split, divided into three or even five others, all screaming for her attention.

No, not screaming. Shrieking, _screeching_ maybe. She knew the volume must have reached deafening levels, but it felt like piles of cotton and wax covered her ears as crude protection, but who put them there, she couldn't understand.

DG felt the colors begin to cool, to blend into grey then fade into the darkness. Her tumbling descent slowed, leaving her floating in a smoky realm of nothing.

"Hello?" she called, waving her arms to try and change her orientation, but there was no way to tell which direction meant "up." Locks of her hair drifted aimlessly, as though through currents of water, the air thick with a chill which brought gooseflesh to her arms and neck.

Somewhere in the mists a shadow emerged, discernible only by the path it tread in the smoky swirls, sending slim spirals spinning in its wake. Something about it seemed familiar, and so DG squinted to see, pursing her lips in concentration.

The silhouette stiffened, straightening at the sound of her voice, turning as if to regard her, and the young princess tried again to approach it, but no matter how she tried to "swim" through this strange place, she couldn't budge on her own.

"Who's there?" her voice echoed, bounding strangely here off invisible walls and reverberating with odd tones. "Where am I?"

"Deeg?" an answering voice greeted her, sending a thrill of confused delight through her — the voice hadn't appeared to have come from the shadow.

"Az? Az, where are you? How can I hear you here?"

"You can't _be_ here! …eeg… _don't_…ome here… go… they'll find you, too…"

DG's eyes widened, her head twisting this way and that in an attempt to find her sister. Azkadellia sounded afraid, distant, and desperate, and the fact that her words had started to fade only too soon after they'd begun worried DG immensely. What had happened in her absence?

_I've gotta get out of here and find her. Wherever "here" is… _

The stuck-in-the-air trick had long since started to annoy her, and she focused her Light in her feet. When a glow surrounded the soles of her shoes, she took an experimental "step" (for no real floor existed here, so to speak) and found that she _had_ moved, or the shadow had, for the distance between them had lessened. She tried calling for Azkadellia once more, but not even a murmur remained, only something akin to the static of a dying speaker system, pops and cracks but no real sound coming through.

She turned her attention then to the silhouette, which had moved closer while she'd paid attention elsewhere, and spoke to it now.

"Who are you? Can you help me find my sister?"

It lifted its head slowly, as if it ached in doing so, raising a hand to its face in a warding gesture. DG frowned and stepped closer, which only served to force it backward.

"Please, I need to find my sister. Don't be afraid."

Shoulders jerked, then shook in short bursts. The wisp of a hand remained over the form of a face, but a new sound emerged, this time surely from the figure itself.

Laughter.

Not a cruel sort that she'd heard before in another strange dream-vision, but something full of clear amusement, gentle but not mocking, sharp but not biting. Just _pleased. _

Even more disconcerting — she _recognized_ the voice. Not even that far away in her memories, DG locked onto the sound and felt a tug of remembrance within her heart, causing her to gasp.

"You're—"

"Yes, indeed, my dear. Very good. Once again you've brightened a dark place with your Light, and none too soon. You see, your sister needs your help, and our time here is so very short."

Haze drifted over the figure, and just as quickly features began to materialize before her eyes. Only when it solidified did she find her voice again, and only to release a scream of terrified shock.

* * *

"What's wrong with her?!"

"Do I _look_ like some kinda doctor?" Cain snapped, falling to his knees at DG's side and giving her a quick visual inspection. Her face had twisted into a mask of fear, dark eyebrows deeply furrowed. As he watched she jerked in her sleep, gasping, struggling to bring her hands to her ears as if to block out sound.

"DG?" he murmured, but she seemed beyond them, carried away into someplace they couldn't reach.

And that scared the hell out of him.

On the other side of the Princess, Ambrose wrung his hands and cast an imploring glance at Toto.

"Well?!" he hissed, and the little dog barked at him twice before shifting into Tutor. Cain gulped down the bile that had risen in his throat — the sounds and visuals which accompanied the shift had always unnerved him.

"She didn't hear us talking," the old man mused, pursing his lips and reaching for DG's hand. "DG? Princess? Come on now, wake up."

She struggled, fighting to keep the hand over her ears, and Tutor gave up, letting go and sitting back, thoughtful. "Interesting."

"That all you can say?" the Tin Man asked, trying to keep himself calm. DG had had bad dreams before, back when they'd searched for the Emerald, but never like this. She'd always woken herself up, or Glitch had shaken her awake. Cain had kept himself in the background during those times, letting others take care of it while he watched, both eyes trained both ahead and behind them in search of danger.

Tutor hummed to himself for a few moments, then shook his head. "This happened once before, when she tried to help Azkadellia. Raw was able to calm her some, but her dreams — and she_ had_ dreamed — were extremely fitful."

"But how did she wake up?" Ambrose continued to wring his hands, an oddly Glitch-like gesture, the more Cain thought about it. A part of him wanted to knock the advisor in the head a few times to bring the wide-eyed optimist back in action; he'd at least have an idea about what to do.

Then again, maybe he did.

"I wasn't there," Cain pointed out, "but I'd be willin' to bet that the Queen told a certain worrywart advisor all about it after her girl finally woke up. Am I right, _Glitch_?"

Ambrose's head snapped up, the zipper gleaming in the dying firelight. "How many times do I have to tell you? My name is —" He met Cain's glare, held it, eyes widening with realization, but he slumped in defeat, rubbing his face.

"I understand what you're trying to say, Mr. Cain, but I don't remember anything about my… other self."

"That so." He dug a hand into his inside pocket, pulling out a small bundle and tossing it at Ambrose with a sharp flick of his wrist. "Remember that?"

"What is —" the handkerchief fell away, and a little tin horse gazed blankly up at them, hand-painted long ago for a boy who grew up too fast and without a father, marred by a silver cylinder embedded in the horse's side. Ambrose stared at it, starting to squint like Glitch did when engrossed in an engineering problem, not seeing the personal connections that Cain did, but something only he would know, would see.

"_I may have saved you from hypothermia, but this is what saved your life."_

"_Come on, Tin Man, have a heart!"_

"Ambrose?" Tutor spoke up, nearly forgotten in their exchange. A thoughtful pall had fallen over Ambrose, drawing him spans and spans away.

"I…" his pale head cocked to one side, blinking rapidly. Cain waited, watching intently even as DG jerked once more, mumbling incoherent words that made him grit his teeth in frustration. They didn't have time for this!

"Glitch?" he tried, saying the name slowly and with all the forced patience he could muster. Cain watched the man grip the toy tightly in one hand, the other digging into his loose hair, running up the zipper and then back to grasp the back of his neck. Jerking, working his jaw, releasing a groan of pain, the advisor opened one eye to give a stony glare at the Tin Man.

"… Cain, did you really ride in on a white horse _again?_ That's so stereotypical."

He let out a breath quickly, trying not to laugh at Glitch's grimace, Tutor's astonishment… the pure absurdity of the moment. "Dammit, Glitch, the mare's _brown_!"

"No, no no! I meant the whole symbolism of the thing, I'm sure that DG—" he trailed off, leaving Cain hanging on what he'd meant to finish saying, but now Glitch's attention had focused back onto the problem at hand.

"Cain? Tutor? What in Glinda's name did I miss?!"

* * *

"You— but you —!"

The shadow… man… shadowman… _dead_ shadowman… laughed again. "While I agree that this plays with most existential philosophies I've studied, Princess, now is not the best time to analyze them."

DG continued to point and stare, heart pounding in her ears and hands shaking. "This is _insane!"_

"Well, actually, the admission that you're insane proves that you, in fact, are not. A paradox that many have attempted to disprove, but by example have instead proven the rule. But be that as it may," he shrugged, and spread his hands in a placating gesture, smiling warmly. "We don't have a lot of time to help Azkadellia, so shall we begin?"

"But…" she struggled to focus, forcing her breathing to slow, wiping wetness from her eyes. The man continued to smile, nodding in appreciation.

"Good, I see that Tutor has been teaching you good habits. Listen carefully, DG, because I'm not strong enough now to hold you here for long. Are you listening?"

"Y-yes. But what happened?"

"Your sister is very ill. If we don't act quickly, there is a very real chance she will disappear."

_Disappear. Not die. Disappear._ "You didn't answer my question."

He studied her carefully, then lowered his balding grey head with a sigh. "Even I don't know entirely what's going on… I only studied the theory behind magic, like Tutor. Despite my prestige and the parlor tricks of my latter life, I had no magic in my bloodline.

"I can only surmise that the Witch and her black magics are to blame for this… limbo your sister has fallen into. They've been very clever so far, and finally reached out and attacked at just the wrong moment. Azkadellia instinctively reached out with what remained of her Light, and fell into a protected sleep."

"So… all we need to do is wake her up again? What do I have to do, go find some cute guy to kiss her?"

"Aha. Hahahaha… yes, I remember that story. Your father is quite amusing when he has a bit too much to drink, rather fond of telling fairy tales. Possibly because he lived one, for a time. But no, DG, it's not that simple."

She slumped. "Of course not. It never is."

"Don't start giving up now, child. You have plenty to do on the journey ahead. Well, I should say 'journeys,' as you'll encounter more than one. In fact, those multiple journeys have any finite yet staggering number of endings, and all of which shall change with each step that you take, but all are intertwined as one and could be taken in different stages, different paths, in differing order."

"What do you mean?" DG struggled to comprehend his maelstrom of words without success.

His image began to fade at that moment, and he glanced up balefully, clenching a fist and shaking it at the smoky air around them. "Dammit, I need more time… they've found me…"

"Wait — don't go!"

But the features of the man darkened as though darkness had reached our with a clawed hand and enveloped him within ebon talons, dragging him out of reach and far away. She called out to him, and the faintest whisper reached her ears before she was left completely alone in the black.

_Return to the Grey Gale. _

* * *

"I really don't know exactly what happened, I'm telling you! The Queen just _spoke_ to her and she finally woke up! I don't know if she used any of her remaining magic or simply her connection to DG to do it…"

"Her Majesty didn't have any magic left when she revived DG," Tutor pointed out gravely. "That's what we were told. But didn't she say that her mother sent her dreams while on the Other Side?"

"Again, there's a lot about magic we don't know," Glitch reasoned in reply, scratching the side of his nose. "Perhaps just enough remained in order to make that happen, or maybe the fact that her magic was given to the Princess meant that Her Majesty would maintain a permanent bond."

"Either way, then, we can't replicate what happened."

The advisor shook his head sadly. "I think not."

All three men stared down at their Princess, who continued to toss and whimper in her nightmares. Her hand shook, clutching the edge of her pillow so hard Cain was sure she'd leave marks in her palm.

"Then there's nothin' we can do? Just let her wake up on her own?"

Glitch sighed in exasperation, looking to Tutor. "Unless you've got some kind of cool trick hidden in your paws, that's really all we've got."

The shapeshifter's scowl deepened, but he said nothing.

Cain watched DG's fist tighten again, and couldn't keep himself from reaching for it, using both of his hands to untangle it from the poor pillow. The moment her fingers loosened, however, they locked onto his, clutching them for dear life as she shuddered.

"W-wait… don't go…"

"DG?" Glitch gasped, leaning over her. "Cain, is she talking to you?"

"I have no idea," he answered honestly, ignoring a bit of laughter in his mind.

_You never could resist a pretty girl in distress, Wyatt. _The Tin Man winced at a rising memory, the one and only incident which had caused unending jealousy in the otherwise gentle (but tough as nails) Adora. A particularly tricky mission in Central City had involved a pretty young woman harassed and chased by several unsavory characters, including the most current holder of the title "King of Slime." Antoine DeMilo always had a thing for redheads, and this one had proven the rule with a new level of gusto. After fighting off some hired thugs and unwilling to leave the poor thing alone in the city where she had no family, Cain had brought the skinny and terrified girl home to stay in the room they'd prepared for the soon-to-be-born Jebediah Cain. Apparently skinny, terrified and redheaded had translated into "unwelcome competition," and Adora had thrown the biggest fit he'd ever seen once the girl had gone safely to sleep.

"_What, by Ozma, is ticking in that brain of yours?! Bringing your work home with you now, Wyatt?"_

_He'd stared at her blankly, completely confused by her outburst. Maybe it was a pregnant thing? She'd lost her temper a lot more easily in the past few months, but this certainly sat a few steps above 'ticked.' "I don't understand."_

"_Of _course_ you don't. Just ignore the pretty girl in the next room, Adora, is _that_ what you're thinking?"_

_He'd paused then, silent for a long time while she seethed. "Actually, I'm thinkin' that you're jealous."_

"_Jealous, he says." She paced the kitchen. "Jealous." She whirled to glare at him. "Wyatt, you ain't _seen_ jealous yet. Now get out."_

That _he definitely hadn't heard before. _"…_What?"_

"_I said get. OUT. You want to keep this girl safe? Fine. You get to go outside and guard our home from these 'bad men' she talked all about at dinner."_

_Completely taken aback by the demand, he'd mutely walked to the front door of their home and opened it, sparing his wife one last look, blue eyes sparkling with mischief. _

"_Adora—"_

"_What?"_

"_You're awful pretty when you're riled up." _

"_OUT!"_

Here again lay a girl in distress. Unlike the redhead from so many annuals ago, Cain couldn't exactly say that DG didn't mean anything to him. She had, after all, saved him from a personal hell concocted by one of the cruelest minds in the Zone, led him to find his son alive and well, and given him a fresh start in life.

She'd given him everything, and never once asked — or had received — any word of thanks from him.

_That's you right enough,_ Adora's voice chided. _But then, you never were a man of many words._

"Please — don't leave me here alone!"

"Deeg —" Glitch fussed, looking at her face, and then to where her hands clasped Cain's. He made a face that, for once, the Tin Man couldn't read, seemingly coming to a decision in that moment. "Cain, talk to her. Maybe… maybe you can bring her back."

He stiffened visibly. "What d'you mean? What the heck am I supposed to say?"

"It doesn't matter! Just try to get her subconscious to focus on you!"

_I don't think I like that idea…_ he thought with no small amount of discomfort, but sighed and leaned closer to DG, feeling the tips of his ears heat up as he did so. Damn, but he felt ridiculous.

"DG? Come on, time to wake up," he whispered, giving her hand a squeeze. "Wherever you are, come back. Come back, now."

She seemed to calm down some, but her face remained troubled, her grip still viselike.

"…Darlin', this isn't funny. You're scarin' us."

Her fidgeting stilled, but maybe Cain imagined it. He swallowed a lump in his throat, knowing that the other two watched very carefully, as protectively as he'd ever done.

_You're a decisive man, Wyatt. Never hesitating, never shrinking back from fear. What's stopping you?_

_The fact that I don't know what to think… or feel… about all of this._

_Yes you do._

A wince visibly shook him, though only Cain himself knew its source. His head shook slowly, one side to the other, and he took a deep, shaky breath to steady himself.

"Deeg. Please… you're scarin' _me,"_ this came out barely audible to his own ears, or so he thought. A view of Glitch's sudden blush and glance to the side from the corner of his eye proved that the pounding in his ears had masked the volume, however, and the fire in his ears promptly spiked. He never felt more grateful that he'd replaced the hat on his head before this mess all started.

Figuring himself damned enough anyway, he let his lips give DG's forehead the slightest brush while he whispered her name one more time, all the while telling himself he would do the same for a small child.

He closed his eyes, leaving his face near hers. He shut out everything around him — Glitch, Tutor, the knocked-out Munchkin, everything — and for the first time in annuals, prayed. He hadn't done it since the day Jeb was born, when the midwife plainly stated that Adora might die from it, that she had bled too much, the hours of long labor had drained his wife of too much life. But the Tin Man had railed in rare fury back at her, spat fire right in her face about just how tough Adora really was, and she better wait and see before pronouncing her dead while breath still entered her body. His rants had scared the woman nearly to death herself, and rightly so, for he'd never since then seen or heard of a midwife giving her patient half as much attention and sweat-faced focus.

He'd prayed then, just as he prayed now for DG. He knew his Princess had the same amount of spunk and stubbornness Adora had always shown… and damn the gods if they drew her into the dark now.

_Come on, Deeg._ Cain heard murmuring near him, but ignored it. The trees whispered their gossip, and the fire crackled in response — Cain pushed everything out like he did just before aiming to fire his pistol, putting everything he had into that crazy thing called hope that he hadn't dared to feel in annuals. He forced himself to breathe, felt the two pulses racing between their hands. Another breath —

"…did you just admit to being scared… Tin Man?" a whisper tugged at his attention, amused and with a touch of plaintiveness. Cain's eyes shot open, dropping to DG's impossibly sky-blue ones.

"Hey there, Cain."

"…Hey there yourself, Princess." He grinned, relishing the surprised expression it brought to her face, for it had banished completely her nightmare fears. "Where'd you go?"

Relieved sounds and sighs echoed all around. "Good grief, DG, would you warn us next time you take a dreamwalk?" Glitch cut in, smiling from ear to ear and clapping Tutor happily on one shoulder.

DG started to sit up, and Cain helped, pulling her up with one hand while placing his other at the small of her back in a steadying gesture. She seemed about to grimace with her reply, giving the Tin Man a sad glance, but he stared pointedly back at her, his grin shifting into a knowing smirk. She stared back, letting the words and Cain's subtle hint sink in.

"Wait —" she turned slowly back around, narrowing her eyes at the advisor for a split second. "Glitch?"

The zipperhead nodded. "Not gonna welcome me back, Doll?"

Everyone jumped as a high-pitch squeal escaped the Princess, and Glitch found himself horribly off-balance — and extremely out of breath — as he found himself with an armful of DG.

"Ohmygodwhathappenedtoyouwheredidyougowhendidyouge tbackWHATDIDIMISS?"

"Whoa whoa whoa!" Glitch laughed heartily, patting her back even as he tried to sit up once more. "Easy there, DG! It's okay now! I'll explain everything."

"You'd better!" she demanded, hugging him even tighter. Tutor joined in the laughter, patting the Princess on the back and asking her questions, which she either ignored or simply didn't hear in her burst of exuberance.

Cain watched the antics with amusement, though a nagging something began to leach it away after a moment. He recalled his conversation with the Princess earlier, about her fondness for Glitch, her comfort and ease around him…

_Is that what I think it is, Wyatt?_

He sighed, banishing Adora's voice and telling himself to let it be.

* * *

_Author's Notes: Soo... didn't quite make it to Red Hat's interrogation in this chapter, so that's first on the list in chapter 15. I'm getting back into updating once a week – here's hoping that I keep to that schedule. Thanks SO MUCH to those who have pushed me to post this week – keep it up! It really helps my morale._

_I want to dedicate this chapter to my husband, the handsome Soldier Boy, aka **Gob Hobblin** here on ffnet. He was able to beta this chapter for me – the first one he's been able to since he left – and you wouldn't believe how pleased I was to see that he'd reviewed my last couple of chapters! **Best. Husband. EVER! **_


	15. Chapter 15 - Introspection and Trickery

_**Chapter 15 – Introspection and Trickery**_

* * *

Golden liquid swilled in a clear glass, fingers roughened by battles of both destruction and creation gripping the edges with a practiced, balanced touch. He didn't drink it, knowing that if he started down that road, he'd find himself hard pressed to drag himself back out of it. And so he sat and stared at the expensive elixir, annoyed by the fact that it sat there to tempt him, and feeling an odd sense of masochistic pleasure that he could resist it for so long without relenting.

For the fiftieth time that evening, he balanced his chair backwards towards the wall as much as he dared, keeping one foot planted on the ground in case the wood snapped from beneath his precariously balanced weight. Wincing at the creak of the old thing, instinctively he knew that the sleeper he guarded wouldn't wake to such sounds, and chided himself at his own jumpiness.

In fact, no one thought that anything could wake her now.

He shut his eyes against that thought, feeling the heat of frustration brimming against closed lids and fighting it back down again, killing it with every happy memory and shards of hope he could manage to scrape up from the corners of his otherwise broken life.

Without them, his beautiful wife and equally lovely daughters, _he_ really amounted to a whole lot of nothing. Though the position that came with his marriage to the Queen meant quite a bit in terms of the Kingdom, as annuals passed he realized that without his family, it too was truly _nothing._

That lesson had proven the hardest in his time among the Unwanted. By that same token, however, his experiences among the other nothings and miscreants of the O.Z. had taught him to craft (and maintain) a mask of cruel nonchalance, which he called upon now to save him from his misery.

The door at one end of the room slid open at a particularly dark point of his musings, and in stepped a tall silhouette whose hair shone as spun silver in the moonlight. Ahamo gave his wife the slightest smile of welcome, though they both knew he didn't feel more than a passing relief that he no longer sat in vigil alone.

"Still nothing?" she asked, her voice empty because she already knew the answer, and so he said nothing, setting his glass aside on a bedside table and opening his arms to her. She extended her hands and glided over, allowing herself his embrace, letting him draw comfort in her presence as she did in his.

"At least she sleeps soundly. The Viewer says she has no dreams this time, but whether it bodes good or ill… even one with his talent cannot say."

"She'll come out of it," he assured gently, knowing the words sounded hollow; he didn't believe them, either.

Her hands shifted to idly massage his neck, seeking to relieve at least some of his physical tension. He grunted and shifted away for the moment, giving her hand a soft kiss in apology. "That will put me to sleep," he explained, gazing over at Azkadellia's pale, drawn, and blank face upon her pillows. "I want to keep watch."

"Darling, can't the guards do this? If she wakes —"

"That's not it," he cut in, never taking his eyes off his daughter. "We left her alone to face the brutality of the Witch for too many annuals. I won't leave her alone to face this trial, too."

He felt the Queen tense beside him, knowing that memories of the old argument had risen within her as well. Though her magic had dwindled to nearly nothing when she had saved DG's life, _something_ had remained, left behind to keep the family securely bonded together. Ahamo, as an outsider to the bloodline, had felt it the least in terms of magic, but sensed it like a tickle somewhere in the depths of his being every now and again.

"Any news from the scouts?" he asked suddenly, wanting to draw their minds away from an unhappier time. Not that this subject boded any better for their equally dark moods this evening, but while the past haunted them, they could still do something about the future.

To his relief, she relaxed and moved to sit on the floor at his feet, a most unladylike gesture that she saved only for their rare moments alone, or when she felt the most weary. He imagined that both situations applied here, and shifted his gaze to rest on her elegant features, trying to re-commit them to memory after so many annuals apart from one another.

"Yes, they have returned, my love."

"And?" he pressed.

"You will not like it."

"I didn't like the first reports. Just tell me."

She remained motionless and silent for a time, and while his more uncouth self wanted to demand that she spit it out, he knew better than to push his wife. Gentle and demure on most days, she still carried flashes of the infamous Gale temper more readily seen in their youngest daughter. Then again, perhaps some of that had come from Ahamo himself, and that knowledge offered him a bit of fatherly pride.

"It… they found…" her hands rose to her face, and a breath hissed out from between her palms, belying a sob she tried to hide. It didn't escape his notice — how could it? — and he slid down from his chair to join her on the cold marble tiles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders as he waited for her to find the words.

"A… whole village… _dead, _Ahamo. Simply dropped in the middle of their day… like toys left behind at school. They saw families draped over their uneaten meals, men sprawled with pitchforks and shovels in still hand from tending stables of livestock, and _children…"_ the sob escaped now, shaking her fragile shoulders, and Ahamo swallowed a wet lump in his throat as he listened, "children lying in the fields, looking as though they slept were it not for the flies… and… and…"

"Enough," he shushed firmly, drawing her into his arms and rocking her as she wept, feeling tears of his own slide down his cheeks. For a long time they sat there like frightened children amid a storm, while their eldest daughter lay in a sleep much like that of the dead very close by.

_When will it end?_ He sent the prayer up to the gods, and another, quieter one tagged along that his youngest child and her faithful guardians stayed well away from the south and west of Central City, where this deadly plague had seemingly begun.

* * *

While Glitch felt several ounces of sympathy for DG's restlessness post-nightmare, his brain still hadn't recovered quite enough from his own internal battles to help her work out the tension…which might be exactly the reason why she asked for this in the first place.

An hour earlier, upon waking and doling out massive hugs to everyone — including a highly confused Tutor — she'd retreated into herself and refused to talk about what she'd seen, "needing time" to sort it all out in her head. Glitch had watched her worriedly, unable to keep his eyes off of her while she retrieved her sketchpad from a saddlebag and began to doodle. They had collectively wondered — or so it appeared — whether she had set up a shield spell to block everything out, but the "leave me alone" vibes had proven more than adequate to keep them at a safe distance while she recovered.

Turning then to Cain, he'd meekly repeated his earlier questions about the time he had lost due to his "other self" resurfacing. The Tin Man explained everything in a tone which suggested he and "Ambrose" — strange to speak of himself in the third person — did not see eye-to-eye. His friend had hummed nonchalantly when confronted with this, but what else could Glitch expect?

At any rate, night crept on, and none of them had yet succumbed to sleep. Glitch had playfully poked the foot of the unconscious Red Hat, remembering him clearly now with a great many shades of distaste and fighting a desire to hang him from a tree like a garden ornament, just to be fair. That had brought a rare chuckle from Cain, as well as the suggestion that doing so would earn the ire of their Princess. So, sadly, he pouted and waited, rocking back and forth on his knees, stealing glances at DG every now and again.

"You're makin' me nervous, zipperhead. Calm down already."

"I can't! She's keeping secrets from us and I don't like it!" he hissed back, trying to keep quiet, and his companion rolled his eyes.

"We all have skeletons in the closet. She'll tell us when she's ready."

"This is a skeleton that definitely needs to exit that closet!" he announced, clapping a hand over his mouth as DG's head rose, blinking at him in confusion. Oops.

"Glitch?" she called, studying him with an odd look. "Why are you talking about people coming out of closets? Is there something I need to know?"

"Huh?" He reddened, attempting to sort out her question while remaining embarrassed that she'd heard the outburst in the first place.

DG continued to stare at him for a moment more, as if trying to confirm what she'd heard. Glitch could swear that she stifled a chuckle, but couldn't tell in the dim firelight. To his complete relief she waved him off, returning to her sketches.

"Never mind. Obviously just an Other Side thing."

Cain looked between them with an unreadable expression, and Glitch shrugged right back, resettling himself but still unable to calm down.

"Hey, Glitch."

He jumped, not expecting to hear from the Princess again so soon, and glanced over his shoulder. "Yeah?"

"Can we fence?"

Confronted with indecision in how to answer, he considered debating the silliness of even requesting it — really now, swordplay at night in a forest? Despite his immediate reluctance, the idea _had_ tugged on the more playful parts of his mind, urging him to try this new idea just for the heck of it.

And, of course, the fact that _DG_ suggested it gave the notion more appeal than it perhaps deserved. Far more appeal. Cain's frosty glare made it even better, like icing on a cake. In fact, DG's open defiance at Cain's attempt to stop them made the mischief just that much more sweet. And Glitch had a wonderfully insatiable sweet tooth, truth to tell.

"This is a bad idea," the Tin Man growled before settling himself against the trunk of a tree, legs stretched out on the mulch and lowering the brim of his hat, failing at his attempt to look like he intended to ignore the both of them in their folly.

Glitch, however, certainly wouldn't be the first out of any of them to back out of a crazy dare. Not when DG issued the challenge. They both needed a chance to work off some steam, after all.

Idly, he wondered how his stuffy other self might react to this, and tartly — and silently — told that thought where it could shove itself.

However, reckless activity or no, he intended to set a couple of safety rules; no sense getting the other half of his brain lobotomized by the Queen for a stupid decision. "All right, DG, not too fancy, definitely nothing high-tempo. Just some quick thrust-and-parry exercises, got it? No feet, just blades, and aim to shoulders and below."

She nodded grimly, the redness in her eyes clearly defining her exhaustion, but still stubbornness won out, and he prayed he could tire her out enough with this that she could sleep until at least dawn. Her stance wavered ever so slightly, but she kept a loose grip on her weapon, her breathing steady and even.

_Good. _He slowly extended his sword, letting her move into an equally slow parry four, but he disengaged deftly a half-beat faster, steel ducking under steel and pushing her to the side with a sharp _click._

"Don't let me control you," he advised gently, dropping his usual bright smile, all business. "If I speed up, retreat and refocus the rhythm to what best suits your style."

"You said I wasn't allowed to have a style yet," she countered, going a bit too high on a fifth and back down into the seven he tried to sneak past her, aiming for her hip.

"Too slow!" he shot back while ignoring her quip, catching her and letting a ring fill the air as the tip of his weapon slid past her guard and tapped her opposite shoulder. Well, he meant to tap it, but DG had moved with him, seeing the movement but looking in the wrong spot — at his blade rather than at _him —_ and likely received a bruise for her trouble.

DG cursed soundly, unused to receiving hits without protective gear, and Glitch felt a temptation to stop and see if he'd harmed her, but reined in the more caring sides of himself. The drill remained safe, and he held nothing but confidence in his own control, having practiced swordsmanship for decades and help hard-earned pride for his efforts. The Queen had not been wrong to choose him as swordmaster to the princesses, and intended to ensure his students became the best in the O.Z.

And so, shoving those protective instincts deep into the recesses of his heart, he pushed the attack once more. He knew that she would one day have to face enemies who didn't give a lick about holding back.

DG caught up with his tempo, but the restriction of remaining in stance without moving clearly wore on her stamina. Her blade dropped out of a solid _en garde_ position, allowing him to land several (gentler) touches on her arm and collarbone. She winced nonetheless, and he could tell that her temper had risen from the icy glare in her eyes.

_How long until this is real for her? When she will be literally defending her own life? Toto said that the Munchkins proved little real challenge compared to what she could face. _Glitch feared that day would arrive too soon. For a moment the fear gripped him, tearing his thoughts away from the drill, and DG managed to extend in a sloppy counter-riposte towards his off-arm, nicking his jacket and ripping a small hole in the thick weave.

"Er… whoops?" Her blade lowered, teeth digging sheepishly into her lip in an attempt to hide a grin.

He raised an eyebrow, which made her giggle, betraying the elfin mirth beneath momentary regret. She so rarely managed to hit him that he sighed, allowed her to relish the victory… while it lasted.

"I think that's a good place to stop tonight, DG."

She made a face at him far too close to a pout, and Glitch sighed while rolling his eyes. "Admit it, we're both tired, getting sloppy, and I don't have the energy to go and grab a mask for you. We should stop."

"I second that," muttered a certain grump near the fire. "Besides, we've got an interrogation to do come sunup, Princess. Unless you want me to handle it."

DG snorted at him, sticking her tongue out in a way that made Glitch smirk. Despite his own childish nature, which anybody with a brain — even half of one — would call charming, DG's little gestures of impishness could melt the coldest of hearts.

Well, except that of the Witch and one Wyatt Cain. The former definitely hadn't had a _heart_ to melt (the rest, well, remained a different story as DG told it), but the Tin Man's innate resistance to cuteness of a blue eyed and brunette nature remained an engaging riddle for Glitch to one day solve. The scientist in him rubbed his hands with glee at the prospect. And again. And again.

Oops, glitching again. DG gave him a look of infinite patience, tapping the tip of her blade into the earth near her feet. "You with us?"

"Of course! Yes. No. What?" He blinked.

"I think the answer to that is yes," Cain deadpanned, nodding toward the dull red bedroll. "You need a brain nap, and the Princess here —" he leveled that dead-serious glare at her, and Glitch bristled when she shrank back slightly, "—also needs to rest. Dawn's not far away, and we delayed here too long."

"And what about you?" Glitch returned pointedly, noting the slump to normally straight shoulders. "Doesn't look like you've rested much yourself since we started this trip."

Perking up at that, DG glanced at him, then at Cain with a more discerning eye. "Come to think of it, Cain, you're always up after us and moving around before us every day. Just how much sleep _have_ you had?"

"Enough." His tone brooked no arguments, except that DG never listened. Glitch grinned, and decided to back her up on this.

"Hey, Cain. Let me take the first watch, for once. Ever since I got control of my noggin again I feel pretty refreshed. Kinda like I was sleeping the whole time. It's no big deal. Get some rest; I won't let anything happen to DG."

Two pairs of blue eyes fell on him with mixed emotions. Glitch continued to smile right back, hoping that his cheerfulness, rather than sheer obstinacy, might wear them down to something resembling logic.

And to his utter surprise, Cain caved, sighing grumpily but going back to his tree and slumping against it without a word, pulling the hat over his eyes as he settled in against the trunk. DG nodded her head in complete approval, shooting Glitch a sly wink before returning to her own bedroll. She sat down and curled up within it, but didn't move as though she intended to sleep, reaching instead for her sketchpad once more. He watched her for a little while, and when she showed no signs of truly settling down, decided to intervene.

"DG?" he asked quietly, eyeing Cain warily while he approached.

"Hmm?" She made some broad strokes on a clean page, her subject still indistinguishable.

"I thought you were going to sleep?"

"Can't," she answered simply. "Still too… riled, I guess. Freaked might be a better word."

He darted around the far side of the dying fire until he could crouch down next to her. Near her pillow Toto lay sprawled out, canine legs kicking now in again in a dreaming state. Glitch held back a sigh, wishing his own existence could be that simple, then raised his eyes to DG again, who had halfway tuned him out.

A glance became a study, and he settled down alongside the bedroll, watching her draw. Whether she failed to notice or simply didn't mind, he had no clue, but felt content to sit and watch for as long as she'd let him.

Glitch had vague memories of watching the Consort create masterpieces over the many annuals since his arrival, but he never recalled enjoying the process very much — too stuffy and mysterious, not for the mind of an inventive engineer. DG definitely had the mystery part down, but the way she captured the very essence of things bordered on the eerie; something in her process reminded him of whenever he drew up a set of blueprints: methodical, careful, and incredibly detailed before her thoughts even reached the page. Before his eyes a face emerged from the pale parchment like a mermaid from the icy depths of the sea, taking form as naturally as birth. In a truly rare moment of his life, Glitch found himself speechless.

The only sounds for a small pocket of eternity came from her pencil, scratching, scraping, and blending with ascending and diminishing levels of intensity, much like a violinist playing a minuet. But this felt far away from simply reading notes on the page — DG _created_ the notes from nowhere, and recorded them with soft graphite for anyone to see and appreciate, but never to replicate.

Why did that unnerve him so?

His eyes reluctantly rose to regard the Princess, trying to merge her with his recollection of a little girl he had once thought completely lost to them. He'd had much more interaction with Azkadellia before… well, _before,_ since she had been older and thus more of a conversation partner. Even so, Glitch — as Ambrose, he reminded himself with bitterness — had loved and adored the young Princess Dorothy Gale, but had known very little about her.

The Queen had a little habit of playing favorites, and though Azkadellia had received the best in everything and certainly, as heir apparent, come first and foremost in her mother's attention, that same mother had showered much more affection upon her younger sister.

_I wonder if she remembers,_ he thought, not caring to dwell on the fact that these memories returned so easily. _Maybe… maybe that might have caused weakness in __Azkadellia, allowed the Witch to—_

"DG…" he suddenly queried, mesmerized even as his mind raced. "Who… what are you drawing?"

"Can't you tell?" she murmured, and for a moment he believed her offended. But the slightest smirk at the corner of her mouth indicated otherwise, and he relaxed, letting his shoulder rest against hers.

"Well… I just… that's not something that I—"

"Thought I'd be sketching?" she answered for him, turning the pencil over to erase a few stray marks, to blend and merge a couple of loose edges, brightening the halo around two very distinct faces on the page.

"Y-yeah…" he agreed, picking at a bit of grass by his feet.

"Y'know, I learned a lot about you today, Glitch."

"You mean _him._ Not me."

She shook her head, several locks of hair dropping loose from her bun to curl gently around the slope of her cheek. "No, he's you. Just a different side. I mean, as Glitch you're so happy all the time; you rarely get more than irritated at something. I mean, sure, you fret about stuff, but then you're over it pretty fast." The pencil began to darken outlines and shadows. "But Ambrose… he seems to be the other way around. Really serious and almost depressing. I have to wonder if what happened to you… I dunno, broke your personality apart?"

One eyebrow must have arched all the way to his hairline, because it started to ache from the effort. "Broke it apart… like into polar extremes?"

"Maybe, yeah. The stress of losing half your brain forced what was left to cope somehow… and Glitch emerged to do just that."

"Well…" he considered, cocking his head to one side. "We know very little about 'head cases,' since they were an Azkadellia thing primarily. We'd tried it once or twice — rather, the alchemists of that time did, not me, too many ethical issues — and the reports often explained that the rehabilitated convicts appeared to transform into completely different individuals." Glitch suddenly frowned at that. "So my very existence is simply a construct, an illusion to keep from losing the rest of my mind?"

The sketchbook dropped to the ground, and he suddenly felt the breath knocked out of him by a pair of warm, thin arms around his chest. Feeling suddenly awkward, still frowning, Glitch huffed and gave her head an awkward pat.

"Stop that!" she said into the shoulder of his jacket. "You're _not_ a construct, Glitch! I just think you're both the _same,_ can't you see that? You're both _Ambrose,_ but you're the quirky, peppy engineer part of him, while he's the more serious advisor-to-the-queen part! The two of you… well, you said that no head case has ever been reunited with his brain —"

"So this is happening because of no research, as well as a previously untried experiment."

"Right. So the two of you need to try and find a way to reconcile yourselves back into one human being. Make a truce; find a happy medium, and all that."

"Mmm. Maybe." Relaxing, she soon let him go and returned his sleepy grin with one of her own.

"You'll find a way. Until then…" she ripped the page out of her sketchbook and handed it to him. "Maybe this might serve as a gentle reminder."

She closed her book and proceeded to curl up under her blanket, sighing deeply as she settled into her pillow. But Glitch didn't notice, too busy staring at the intricately detailed gift she'd given him.

Two men stood staring at each other across a small gulf of blank white, one determined and serious and the other cheerily smiling. Their right hands had frozen in a brisk handshake, and one uniform might have been slightly disheveled where the other's maintained crisp lines, but their figures appeared (despite their apparent differences) completely relaxed with one another.

Glitch held the drawing close in both hands, like a child might, training the lines and angles into his mind, hoping that the other side of him could also see this thing which could never be _except_ within the mind. For both men were picture-perfect depictions of himself, at peace at last with one another.

_Thank you, DG._

* * *

Voices awakened her from her rest, hushed but still carrying in the stillness of the clearing. She opened a wary eye, then closed it as rising daybreak invaded and tried to pry them all the way open with all the grace of a crowbar to a car window.

"Ugh…"

At her groan the voices ceased to be, and the sleepy Princess rolled over, giving up on sleep now that the curiosity bug had bitten her. A small eternity passed before she felt awake enough to do more than blink a few times, rubbing the grime out of her eyes and off of her face.

"Glitch? Cain?"

"Morning, doll!" the advisor called from the fire, poking the flames beneath a travel kettle with a stick. "Want some coffee?"

She sat up, stretching as she did so and rubbing some feeling back into the arm upon which she'd slept. "That is music to my ears! Where's my mug, or do I get to drink straight from the kettle?"

"Wouldn't recommend it," he snorted. "Toto tells me you stink at healing spells."

"As if he's any better…"

"What was that?"

"I said, gimmee my coffee or else!"

He laughed at that, and even more so when she mimed a walking zombie towards the fire. Apparently, zombie lore had permeated the O.Z.'s stories and cult mythology as much as on the Other Side, which she'd found both odd and highly entertaining when it came to telling ghost stories. Ah, _that_ was an awesome Halloween.

Not that anyone here — minus her father — knew about Halloween.

"Where's Cain? I thought I heard him a moment ago?"

"Ah, he's… waking up Red Hat."

"Why don't I like the way you said that?" she asked suspiciously with a no-nonsense glare. Glitch made a futile attempt to ignore her until she stood completely over him, hands on her hips. "Glitch…"

"Sheesh, okay! He had a case of Tin Man grouch this morning and decided to cure it by playing dunk-a-Munchkin in the river."

Her first thought: _river? _

Her second thought: _dunk-a-…_

"He did _what?!"_

"Don't worry! Toto went with him to make sure he behaved himself!"

_That does _not_ make me feel any better._ But she held her tongue, biting down on it so hard it hurt. Sitting down, she waited patiently for the water to finish boiling, finding that someone had already retrieved her mug. Glitch opened the top of the kettle to dump in some fresh coffee grounds from a familiar saddlebag, making her raise an eyebrow at him.

"Is that—"

"Cain's? Yeah. He always has the best stuff."

"Does he—"

"No, and you're not going to tell him if you want some."

Her mouth clicked obediently shut, and she sat like a fidgety first-grader five minutes before recess until the elixir of greatness had been poured, hastily blown upon, and blissfully enjoyed as it tore a scorching path down her throat.

By the time Cain returned with Red Hat, still spluttering and cursing and dripping river water on Toto's long fur, Glitch had already returned the Tin Man's saddlebag and erased all evidence of caffeinated mischief.

"Welcome back," Glitch mock-saluted. "DG just got up — you wouldn't happen to have any coffee, would you, Cain?"

DG fought a giggle at the look of pure innocence on her friend's face, and nearly lost it at Cain's grunt of "no."

"Ah. Too bad. She was really craving some."

"She can crave all she wants, but I don't have any." To DG now, he said, "You ready for this, Princess?"

Shooting Glitch a quick look and a smirk, she rose and dusted off her pants. "Whenever you are, Mr. Cain."

* * *

'Going nowhere fast' would easily describe DG's opinion of the 'interview' at that exact point in time, if they'd asked her. But no one bothered, and so she sat back and continued to watch, mutinously glaring at Cain for insisting on playing 'bad cop' while she made doe-eyes and demure side comments as the 'pretty pretty princess.'

She really felt like puking. This was a joke.

The whole time, Red Hat had said little, and nothing Cain threatened or cajoled would crack the Munchkin's steel veneer. Yet he persisted, though DG could tell that his interrogation skills needed polishing. Magic could solve this whole thing easily, but the whole party had decided against it to keep Red Hat from becoming even more paranoid. His suspicion had risen to heights beyond the atmosphere already.

Not paying attention to Cain's words anymore, she jumped when their prisoner finally spat out a reply.

"Filthy Tin Man, I know not but that your kind is easily bought… seen I the result of your treachery, leading your brothers to death by slavery!" He spat in disgust on the ground, baring his teeth.

Cain paled, then reddened with anger, taking a measured step towards the scarlet creature. DG stood then to intervene, Tin Man's orders be damned.

"What are you talking about?"

Red Hat sneered, and Cain looked away. "Princess you are, bright little star, but history eludes you?"

All signs of restraint faded from her face, leaving marked hostility there instead. "You've never called me 'Princess' before."

"Princess you be, but then, so was the Sorceress. Who are you, who was she, but just another murderess?"

"_Listen_, you—" Cain started, and DG held up a hand to silence him, her gaze fixed on Red Hat's glittering black eyes.

"Though I want to hit you for even suggesting it, you have a point. I haven't earned your trust yet." Carefully, deliberately, she sat on her knees, careful not to get _too_ close. "You know me, then? Do you recognize me?"

Some of the ire seemed to leave him, and Red Hat nodded after a few moments of continued silence. "Ghost of a child long gone. Host to a new Witch?"

"No to both. Not dead, and not a Witch."

"Not _the _Witch, but a witch, still. All Gales have the magic to use at will."

"But your people can also use magic."

"Some, yes. Me, yes."

"Makes sense," Cain murmured into her ear, and she fought a shiver of surprise at hearing him so close. "Couldn't see him until the last second. Shadow magic."

"Tin Man speaks truth," Red Hat affirmed sagely, though he shot Cain a venomous glare. "A thing long extinct, for him to still have such instinct."

"Okay, Red Hat," impatience laced every word and pulled them tight, "If it helps, ignore Mr. Tin Man over there and just talk to me, okay? What can I do to make you believe who I am?"

He snorted. "Very little can you do to sway me, Witch."

"Call me DG. That's my name."

"But not your real one. Names have power, not so easily won."

DG suddenly remembered some old stories from the Other Side, where older cultures believed that everyone had a true name known only to closest family and friends, and another which they used in everyday life. Knowing that true name gave you power over the person in question, and so often remained the most valuable secret a person could ever have. Ahamo had often told her those stories, where fey folk had traded in names for favors and power.

_Do I have a true name? _Had she forgotten it, along with so many of her other childhood memories?

_Something to ask the parents later…_

"I take it that Red Hat is not your true name, then?"

Another snort. "Of course not. My true name is long and difficult to memorize, so that none may take it as a prize."

Cain murmured in her ear once again, "Azkadellia, in one of her raids, had stolen some of the genealogical records of the Munchkins, which contained some true names."

Red Hat turned his attention to Cain, and his features grew sad. "Stole them she did, that which was hid. Names and lives. Few have memories, those who survived."

"That's terrible…" She could only imagine the pain of his people, the glee of the Witch at such a discovery. "I'm so sorry for your loss… and I wish I could do something to fix it…" Cain's hand squeezed her shoulder, giving her courage. "But… giving you my true name is not on the list for peace offerings. I'm sure you understand."

He considered that for and instant, then gave her a toothy grin. "Too bad. But not a fool, I see. A good Princess you might soon be."

_Well, that's progress. _"Second choice, then? How do I prove myself to you?"

"Where are you going in these woods without fear?" he demanded. "Tell me this, and why you are here."

DG glanced back at the Tin Man, who shook his head minutely, but she made a face at him and answered with all bluntness: "I am returning the Emerald to the Grey Gale."

She pointedly ignored Cain slapping himself in the forehead.

"You have the Destined Stone?!"

"I do."

"And you can enter the Tomb?"

_Since when did this interrogation turn around on us?_ "Yeah, I can."

Red Hat stood then, and DG realized with a start that he'd somehow found a way out of his bonds. Noticing her surprise, he grinned again, waggling the fingers of one hand at her.

"In magic you are not alone. In your ignorance do you atone. Only bearers of Light may enter the tomb of our esteemed Mother Gale, and those touched with Darkness will surely fail."

The riddle's words swam around in her mind, but she finally deciphered his meaning. "So, if I open the tomb without trouble, I'll finally show you we're not Long Coats?"

"Indeed."

Letting out a long sigh of relief, she stood and clapped her hands together with renewed energy. "Well, what're we waiting for? Let's hit the trail!"

* * *

Quentin Ark emerged from his home early that morning, knowing that the crops needed a bit more care than usual after the last big rainstorm. Sometimes being so close to Finaqua had its downsides, and having the occasional freak downpour definitely hit the top ten list.

His wife still slept, and after the fight they'd had the night before, he didn't have the heart to wake her. She'd rip him a new one for sure once she did, but who kept score at this point? After fifteen years together, such things had become a part of their daily routine.

Dirty boots caked with summer mud and leaves sat on the porch, kept safe by his hound, who lifted his head and whined in welcome. Quentin gave him a gentle pat before pulling the boots on over worn grey socks.

Voices in the field caught his attention, as well as that of his companion. Both turned their heads toward the source, a distinct rustling of the crops showing their location. Thieves? Possibly. After the death of the Witch, many had turned to more openly using desperate measures to find food — Quentin and his neighbors had managed to survive in this small corner of the O.Z., but not without paying off some local mercenaries to keep their plots safe.

But where were they now?

"Hey!" he called, grabbing a shotgun from inside the house before going any further afield, clicking off the safety and swallowing a lump in his throat. Having the gun at all made him nervous, what with the returned Queen's speeches against them, but again, he had a family and resources to protect, by Glinda!

The voices dropped to a hum, and as the second sun rose to join its brother in the sky, sending strange shadows towards the house, a plume of smoke also began to form above the darkened greenery, forcing a shout from Quentin.

"HEY! What the hell d'you think you're doin'?!"

The dog began to bark hysterically, but he shushed him, firmly telling him to stay at the house while he rushed forward. "Get outta here! I'm not jokin'! GO AWAY!"

Blood pounding in his ears as he shoved tall stalks and leaves aside, the gun pushing ahead of him with the muzzle pointed towards the sky Quentin stopped far too late to save his life.

Flashes of black and red and — gold? — greeted his vision as six pistols of various caliber pointed directly at him.

"Ah, good. A volunteer. We get so few of those." A figure emerged from one side, gesturing to one of the black-clad men. Quentin started another yell for help, recognizing them now, but too late, too late.

Pain to the back of his head, and then nothing.

* * *

_**Author's Notes:** Whew! I have to say, this chapter was a real beast to finish. Work sent me out of town last weekend, and I had to play catch up once I got back. A lot of introspection that I figured needed to be addressed, and I'm starting to connect some of the hints I've dropped in previous chapters. And Red Hat - writing him is actually quite a lot of fun. Not a much as Glitch, but still enjoyable. __Seriously, when he decides to go with them, I couldn't help thinking of the Zelda "got item!" sound(s). ^_^()_

**_*fixed the 'one hour earlier' bit. It just took me looking at it again in the middle of the night to figure it out, of course!_**

_Love the reviews - thank you and keep them coming! I have another busy couple of weeks ahead and could use all the help I can get! _


	16. Chapter 16 - Interference

_**Chapter 16 - Interference**_

* * *

"I don't like this."

DG, shifting to a better spot in her saddle, rolled her eyes and tried to ignore Cain's grumbling. A check of their maps had indicated that the Tomb lay only about half a day's ride away, and most of the time had been spent in a strange, awkward silence.

Until now.

DG still rode her own horse, with Toto nestled in an extra saddlebag. Cain rode alone at the head of the pack, and Glitch took up the rear. Red Hat had refused any and all attempts to put him on a horse, having no trust at all for the gentle creatures and instead insisting on using his own two feet. They had all stared at him in complete amusement, Glitch murmuring about "short legs" as they collectively covered their mouths to hide both laughter and further jokes. However, despite all logical reasoning, the Munchkin not only kept up with them all, but often strayed ahead past Cain, annoying the Tin Man to no end.

_Shadow magic,_ DG reminded herself with no small amount of admiration. _I'll have to ask him to show me some of that one day, if he ever trusts me enough._ She highly doubted it, but the worse he'd say was a "hell no" in rhyming iambic pentameter… so at least she'd be amused by the refusal.

"Well, what would you like?" she answered, a touch impatient with the Tin Man's paranoia.

"Him to be tied to a horse and unable to get away."

"Right, because your Boy Scout knot skills did the job really well last time. This is a peace offering. Tying up a new ally doesn't generally improve relations."

He tugged on the reins to move back next to her, giving her an intense stare. Part of her quailed under it, and the rest of her agreed with the defiant blush reddening her cheeks — she did the right thing, darn it!

"We've talked about this before, Princess, and I'll say it again — you trust far too easy."

"Easily."

"What?"

"The phrase is 'trust too easi_ly_, cowboy. We've _got_ to work on that public speaking."

"Stop changing the subject!"

"Stop being a stubborn mule!"

"DG…!"

"_WHAT?"_

"_HEY!"_ Glitch snapped from behind them. "Will you two _stop_ with the kindergarten stuff? Jeez, the two of you look like you're about to tumble around in the dirt with fists flying! And as fascinating as that might be, I'd really like to get rid of the Emerald and get home when we can, okay?"

The two turned as one to face the advisor, then turned back, falling again into silence. Neither looked at each other, both slightly flushed from the interrupted argument. Flashes of deeper scarlet showed Red Hat flickering in and out of sight between the trees and along the grasses, and soon the sounds of water greeted their ears.

"Finally…" DG sighed, kicking Misty to galvanize her into a steady canter, ignoring Cain's glare of protest; he still refused to speak to her, apparently.

_Fine then. _She ducked her head close to the mare's neck, and if a slight golden glow appeared around them to keep stray branches and patches of mud from knocking them off-course, she felt sure no one noticed. A grin teased her lips, as much from the foolhardy exhilaration of leaving the general safety of her companions as letting the horse have her head for once. A sensation of flying overwhelmed DG's senses, and she basked in it while it lasted, murmuring thanks for the relief.

Misty gave little protest at the encouragement of her rider, evidently wanting to finish this journey as much as everyone else. Eventually the trees began to thin, and a familiar clearing brought the full force of sunslight to their faces as they emerged into an impossibly green meadow. Even so late in the season, wildflowers of infinite color graced the green with ribbons of red, yellow and white, brilliantly waving their welcome to the royal entourage.

A warmth against DG's leg prompted her to pat the satchel tied to her belt — the Emerald hadn't left her person since that one little incident, and she felt the burden of it lighten ever so slightly as they approached the resting place of the Grey Gale.

Cain and Glitch arrived a few breaths later, slowing to a stop on either side of Misty. For a small eternity they let collective memories flow through them, each comparing this moment to a much different one, one tinted with desperation and darkness.

_And without a Munchkin in tow._ Red Hat reached the top of the hill to join them, somehow nowhere near out of breath from the entirety of the trek. DG made an addendum to her original mental note: _he's gotta teach me that trick SOON._

"Well?" their unintended guest spoke rather rudely into their introspection. "Time runs through a sieve, and still proof you must give! Carry on, carry on, and then my trust might be won."

"By Ozma, we all know I love my rhythm, but is there any way you can say something _without_ a headache-inducing rhyme?" Glitch whined, rubbing his zipper and dismounting.

Red Hat stared at him, letting a wicked grin steal over his face: "No."

Unable to help herself, DG giggled. Taking her friend's cue, she jumped off Misty without waiting for Cain to help her down. To her surprise he looked a bit hurt at that, but chalked it up to her wild imagination and brushed off her obviously wrong observation.

The warmth in her pocket suddenly sparked, and DG hissed as pain seared through her leg. In unison with the Emerald's pulse, the doors of the tomb — only a few meters ahead of them, where the clearing met a new copse of trees — glowed a brilliant green-white. A collective gasp rose up, and DG cried out with it, digging with both hands into a tight jean pocket to dig the stone out.

"DG?" Cain dropped to a knee beside her, watching her struggle for only a moment before pulling out a knife from his boot. She jerked at the sight.

"HEY! None of that!" she snapped, swatting his hand away and biting her teeth against the burning sensations. "I've… got it… now!" With a final tug the Emerald came free, tumbling into the grass and glowing like a small sun. Glitch poured ice water — gathered in a moment of lucidity from the cold lake next to them — over her throbbing hands, bringing a moment of numbness for which she heartily thanked him in a near babble.

A _tsk_ing brought them back into reality, and all eyes fell to the Munchkin shaking his head, staring down at the Emerald but not daring to touch it.

"Such things I have not heard, of the owner of the Stone being burned. Bright it glows when she works in Light, and Darkness fills it when she strays to wrong from right. Never have I heard of such sparking blight."

"The legends we know of don't talk about it, either," Glitch added, just as puzzled by the stone's behavior. "I did some reading before we left the palace, but our friend here pretty much summed it up — the magic in it changes depending on who wields it, or it simply fades to a dull glow when someone unworthy or unmagical touches it."

"Well, I ain't touching it to test that side of the theory."

Glitch elbowed Cain sharply.

* * *

Knocking interrupted a blanket of blackness, and he shifted uneasily amid a restless mist somewhere between sleep and wakefulness. Memories surged with the sound, as they often did in his new days of freedom, and he felt himself tumbling forward into yet another this night —

_He knew without looking up that the delicate footsteps outside the cottage, knowing precisely where to skip the creaky boards and clicking on expensively cobbled heels who exactly began lifting a hand to knock on his door._

_Which explained precisely the stab of dread and anxiety yanking on the strings of his heart. Abandoning the paintbrush like a forgotten lover, a star drowned out against the brightness of the sun, he descended onto the door with two long strides and threw it open before the first tap could sound._

_And there they stood for a pocket of time, seeing within one another's gaze the echo of promises kept, vows whispered in secret and also announced in public, tenderness and passion and determination to stay together for always tying their souls into one. _

_He saw that in her lavender eyes, and so, so much more besides. And today that besides held mostly pain. And sorrow. And shame. But he knew… knew precisely why she had come, but had to know, to see — and yet — _

"_Oh, darling…" he murmured, his paint-blotched fingers reaching thoughtlessly towards her newly-silvered hair. He mourned the loss of those radiant raven locks in silence, knowing her vanity would prevent his saying so aloud. _

_He'd hoped that she'd keep that color for at least a few years more, but found surprise in the realization that it made her look… delicate, yes, and certainly ethereal… stately?_

_Though his mind searched for the words, his wife shied deftly away from his fingertips. "No," she reminded him, fighting the tears he knew sat brimming there. "You cannot. There is no time. No one can know of this."_

"_I know," he reassured, dropping his hand and biting his lip, feeling bereft that they could not even touch. _

"_I have left instructions with friends in Milltown. She is there… waiting for you. You must go now, quickly as you can, and take her to the Other Side."_

"_Is this the only way?"_

"_You know that it is."_

"_Then… after I do this thing, I will —"_

"_No!" she silenced him in a way he'd rarely seen used on him. This voice she used on political rascals at court, on seedy nobles visiting Central City, to chasten their daughters after a mischief. "Though Alenna will erase my memories of this once… once you are gone…" she faltered, and he loved her so much more then for her strength, "I cannot risk anyone knowing of you… finding you. You are my weakness, which is why I am sending you away and asking you to finish this part of the journey in my stead. And besides that, I…"_

_He knew what she had nearly said. _I don't want to say good-bye to her a second time.

"_Go, then," he whispered, trying to show with his eyes alone everything within his heart. "May we meet again soon, my love."_

_And he watched her turn, lowering her gaze to the floorboards, taking step after step until she vanished completely, as if only a mirage against the shimmering waters of Finaqua. Perhaps she had been, after all — whether she still had the power, he didn't know, but never once questioned the sincerity of her every movement, and the direness of his mission._

_He must begin immediately. _

A warm hand alighting upon his shoulder pulled him further from the whispering shores of the past, pulling him up for air before he dunked himself into those treacherous waters again. Bleary, he blinked and raised his head, not completely aware of his disheveled state, but slowly becoming so.

"My dear, you were dreaming," a warm female lilt welcomed him back to the world of the living, and she laughed lightly when he tried to blindly lasso her waist with his arm and missed completely.

"Ahamo, there is news. You told me to wake you."

"News?" he repeated, coughing into his opposite hand and sitting up in his chair, trying to sweep the mental cobwebs aside. "So soon?"

"Indeed. We sent our fastest riders to warn the outlying villages of Finaqua…"

"And?"

"Another village has fallen."

He cursed vehemently, clenching his fingers into tight fists and knowing all the while it would do nothing to assuage his temper. "And we still don't know who's done this? Where the plague came from?"

"We have recovered a single survivor. She is resting in a quieter wing of the palace, under guard and watched by the Viewer, Raw."

"I thought Raw was supposed to watch over Azkadellia?"

Lavender eyes hardened at the intended rebuke. "I thought his skills were more sorely needed for this, for the poor child was driven nearly mad in her attempts to escape the danger. You… you have not seen her, Ahamo." She let the statement hang in the air between them, a silent challenge.

_Are you really going to challenge my wisdom in this?_ she seemed to ask, and he acquiesced to her decision as Consort… but not as a father.

"All right. I'll go see her."

"Shouldn't you take time to wake up fully? Eat something—"

Shaking his head, he cut her off gently. "No. The sooner I do this, the sooner Raw can return to Azkadellia. Besides—" he forced a wry grin against her next open-mouthed protest, "If she's half mad already, then she _won't_ notice that the Consort looks like he just rolled out of the Realm of the Unwanted."

* * *

He stood resolutely behind her as they approached the Tomb's entrance, never more than two steps away… he trusted her implicitly, but magic remained a tricky thing he never put much trust in, and so he stayed close in case anything went awry.

The other two in the party stayed well back, and he smirked at the thought of Red Hat and Glitch attempting to make conversation in their absence. The two had bickered for a long time while tying up the horses, and nearly came to blows as soon as the Munchkin began to insist that he accompany DG all the way to the Tomb's door.

Instead, at the Princess's own order, they stood atop a small grassy knoll overlooking the door's location, able to see the Emerald's reaction as well as their successful (they hoped) entrance to the Tomb.

A wind from the lake blew across their faces, bringing a chill which went deeper than a physical breeze, toying with Cain's mind about the natural sorceries inherent in this place. He'd heard stories about the eternal green in this land, about even in the coldest of winters everything remained lush and verdant, how the animals seemed to have higher intelligence and greater ability to evade capture…

_How did the Witch not notice?_ he wondered suddenly, but didn't give it more thought as he felt a pair of blue eyes resting on him.

"Hmm?" he shook his head, silently chastising himself for losing focus. _Only around her… she's dangerous as anything I've ever faced before. _

"I just… will you go with me?" she asked, ducking her gaze as the sentence escaped with a single quick exhale. He raised an eyebrow at her, fingers adjusting the brim of his hat.

"Inside?" _Stupid question._

She nodded. "Too many bad memories. I don't want to go alone. Especially if _she's_ there."

Pausing to study her, Cain realized that DG had never told them what had happened inside the tomb, only that the Grey Gale had given her the Emerald, and then Azkadellia had captured her. By the time he and Glitch had followed Toto to stage a rescue, she'd freed herself and rejoined them easily.

But he couldn't ask her now. He felt a pang of guilt at never having thought about it before. And now, seeing that fear she tried to banish as she voiced her calm plea did strange things to his heart, bringing a chiding voice to echo softly in his ear.

_You always dwelled on things you couldn't change._

Truth. Adora, much like DG, always looked forward, acknowledging mistakes but all too happy to move forwards, never looking back. Such a trait had probably served his wife well in the Resistance, where she'd likely been exposed to snap decisions and quick thinking which often resulted in harm to others.

But he couldn't see DG in the Resistance. Far too fragile. While she moved forward, he could always see the guilt, the self-directed anger she always carried. Her issues with firearms aside, her headstrong nature tended to come to a screeching halt when other lives hung in the balance.

_She's still so young. Hasn't had time to see the brutality of the O.Z._

_No,_ he told Adora's memory sternly, _she's seen enough. She knows without knowing, if only by witnessing the aftermath of her decisions. Of the Witch's actions. _

_Then why do you try to protect her from it?_

Why, indeed.

"Cain?"

He forced a smile as he filed away those thoughts for later. "Sure. I'll go."

_You make it sound as though she's asking you to help her carry home fruit from the market. _

Repressing a growl at Adora's insistent nagging, he let the smile soften, become more genuine. "You okay?"

In answer, she turned away from him and pulled the Emerald from her pocket. Grasping the wrapped stone in her left hand, she raised the right and let her eyes slide closed. A familiar golden glow coalesced into the House of Gale's circular emblem within her palm, reflected into a shimmering field directly ahead. Two doors, intricately stylized moved in and out of his vision like some sort of illusionist's cheap act, but no penny magician could make his eyes hurt from looking at petty parlor tricks. This was the real thing, and it stopped his blood cold.

Suddenly, tendrils of green emerged from the tightly wrapped cloth, worming around DG's hand and up her arm. She didn't appear to notice, focusing her energies on opening the doors. They looked too much like snakes, the way they tightened and dug into her sleeve...

"Deeg —" he murmured, a hand dropping uselessly to the pistol at his side — _what're you goin' to do, shoot her hand? _But what else could he do?

She gasped then, as she had when the Emerald had tried to burn her before. But instead of dropping the damned thing she only held on tighter, and her knees began to buckle as the tendrils began to disappear into her flesh all the way up to her shoulder. "It—"

He reached out without thinking, grasping her shoulders and holding her steady. A tingling sensation crept up his fingers, stinging knuckles and snapping at his palms, but still he held on. "I got you."

DG stiffened, then relaxed slightly against him, letting him hold her up just as the doors swung open, revealing a gaping maw of grey and silver darkness with teeth cast in shimmering marble. A shiver he could easily feel shook her slender form, and he tightened his grip instinctively while they looked together into that yawning mouth. The glows, both gold and green, faded, and icily stale air from inside beckoned them forward into the ghostly unknown.

"It's time," she murmured, and when he didn't let her go, turned her face to gaze at him, a silent question etched all over it. One that he couldn't answer now.

"We'll go home after this," he said, all too aware of how closely he held her. "We'll help Azkadellia."

"Can you promise that?"

A sigh escaped him. "I can promise that I'll do everything in my power to make it happen."

Her lips curled slightly, accepting that. A thought struck him then as he finally released her and took a step back, straightening both hat and duster with an air of nonchalance. He had to ask this now, while he had a chance.

"DG?"

"Hmm?"

"Why d'you smell like Central City dark roast coffee?"

* * *

_**Author's**_ _**Notes:** __A lot of explanation ahead in the next scenes - which will, in turn, raise new questions about how everything is connected. One quest is nearly complete, but there's still the problem of Azkadellia; can DG find a way to save her again? What is the source of the plague? Can Ahamo learn anything from the poor survivor?_

_Let me know what you guys think! _


	17. Chapter 17 - Winds of Stone

_**Chapter 17 – Winds of Stone**_

* * *

After a brief exchange involving throwing Glitch under a Tin-stamped bus regarding caffeine thievery, DG blushingly scurried into the atrium of the tomb, with Cain hot on her heels. He tried in vain to keep the equally guilty grin from stealing across his own face, and hoped that she'd keep her back turned to him.

It had never hurt so much to restrain a smile before now.

But all amusement, hidden or otherwise, vanished as the true cold of inside enveloped him, and he had only enough time to blink before the doors slammed shut behind them, leaving both in almost complete, blind darkness.

"Cain?" he heard her tinny cry, and moved toward her last known direction, hand outstretched.

"Still here, DG." He injected calm into the words, hoping she'd pick up on it. "A spell might come in handy right about now."

"Spell? Oh, right…" Illumination momentarily dazzled them, then dimmed to a more manageable brightness above DG's hands. She drew the little starburst of light close, and he could see the wonder on her face as she scrutinized it. Doing the same, he noticed that instead of the usual gold, a slight green aura permeated the light, turning the marble floors and walls around them into eerie shadows and shapes.

"That's better," he praised. But there came that fear in her features again, the pulling tension in her shoulders which made her draw into herself and duck her head. And once more he approached, resting a hand around to her back while he gave her a teasing smile.

"Hey there, Princess. You okay?"

She gently pushed the light in her hand upward, letting it fly toward the ceiling and linger there, scattering patches of silver and grey into sharper relief around them. Following her gaze to that little wispy flame and watching it expand to more of a fluctuating, sparkling firework, he heard her breathe out. Then in again. Then out.

_Is she hyperventilating? _"DG?"

"I'm okay."

He grunted derisively, but decided to let it go for now. Clearly scared, she needed a distraction, not a way to get mad at him. "Sure you are. How's the Emerald?"

"The— oh. Yeah. Um…" Some shuffling sounds, and she unwrapped it gingerly from the cloth wrap. It gave off a healthy glow, almost pulsing in tune with DG's light spell above them. No sparks, no little stinging serpents or icy tendrils… just a benign radiance, the way the stories always described.

"Strange," DG murmured, reaching out with her fingers. "It's like—"

"Don't touch it!" he cautioned, but she shook her head in denial.

"No, it's different now. I can feel it." To prove her point, she let one finger gingerly rest on the surface of the stone. Cain winced, but for nothing; the Emerald didn't react at all. DG grasped the thing in her bare hand now, pulling it to her face for a closer inspection. "Az — the Witch — they had marveled at it back then, that something so small could hold so much power."

"It definitely doesn't look like the game-changer everyone promised it'd be," he agreed, leaning to see better but not moving any closer. He recalled the incident only a few minutes ago when she'd opened the doors.

"DG, is it affectin' your magic at all?"

She pursed her lips, concentrating. "I've never actually _used_ it before now, so I can't really tell. But…" blue eyes slipped shut, and a pair of lights glowed much brighter — one white-gold, one green. "I can almost hear something, now. A small voice calling me forward."

"Callin' you where?"

She pointed with her free hand to a door across the atrium. "To the Grey Gale herself. To Dorothy."

"To Dor—?" _Of course, Wyatt. She's the descendant of_ the_ Dorothy Gale. House of _Gale,_ remember?_

DG had already begun walking around the marble stairs, holding the Emerald in her upturned palms as she approached a metal panel engraved with the House of Gale sigil. The Tin Man followed, leaving more space between them that he normally would have allowed and excusing it as anti-magic jitters. The whole place seemed entirely saturated with the stuff, eager as the dust motes to enter his lungs and fill his body with a singing thrum in the blood.

He could feel his nerves tingling, and the resultant wariness returned.

The panel glowed as DG drew near, but these doors refused to open so easily. She cocked her head to one side, listening to something only she could hear.

"I don't understand…" she whispered, "She's there, I know she is. But—"

The Emerald suddenly sparked, and DG dropped it from her hands. It did not fall, however, instead remaining perfectly level where it hovered in the air and starting to spin. Lights emerged from the glowing facets of the gem, sending dancing streamers across their faces and the tomb's empty walls. Cain found himself turning, almost seeing recognizable shapes in the pattern of green upon stone.

The crackling green brightened, and the gem shot between him and DG to the center of the atrium, where stairs led down to countless other ancestors, cousins, husbands and wives to the Gale dynasty. The spinning continued, and someone gasped when DG's light spell sputtered utterly out of existence with a _pop!_

Illumination expanded around the hall, brightening the space in flashes of blue now, and yellow, and white and black and red… a soft touch made him jump, and he felt DG come up behind him, her fingers twisting into his as she fought to control her breathing. He wanted to look at her, offer some reassurance, but his gaze felt locked to the ghostly images forming on the whitewashed marble, unable to tear away from the haunting voices of memory bringing the ancient legends to bear.

_A shining city of silver lined with the finest in emeralds…_

_A delicate, willowy queen with distinctive twin braids, eternally youthful… _

_Witches, good and evil, fighting and plotting to either protect or destroy the land… _

_The green gem of destiny, meant to pass to the rightful ruler of the O.Z…._

Nausea might have overtaken him had DG not been there, her presence steadying. The pictures passed too quickly, out of focus and whirling like tattered newspapers lost in a wind.

Lost in a gale.

Her hand squeezed his, and the Emerald's wild spinning began to slow. "It's trying to tell us something…"

"Why not just say it, then?" he muttered back, and their words echoed more deeply in the chamber than they should, reverberating back and forth through the hollows and bouncing off the stone until they sounded nothing like their originals, twisting and morphing into something new.

And then the scene began to darken into an unnatural dusk not unlike the recent double eclipse, offering a less than favorable response to the Tin Man's inquiry.

* * *

A slender figure shimmered into existence, rising out of the grasses conjured by the Emerald and casting a long silhouette towards them. The suns burned to look at, more real than DG cared to admit; an eerie silvery shade more akin to a moon's glow contrasted the summery warmth pressing upon her face in this impossible vision. She welcomed the conflicted feelings as readily as she might a glass of sand in the desert — though the vision made her ill, at least it gave her _something_ to banish the memories of darkness, of finding herself hopelessly trapped within a stone box.

"_**So you've come here again," **_the shadow spoke; neither she nor Cain had dared answer the first time. _**"You've failed in your mission, young Dorothy."**_

"No!" she shook her head defiantly, taking strength from Cain's fingers wrapped around her own, giving warmth where she felt chilled. "I didn't fail — I stopped the Witch!"

"_**You broke the prophecy. You did not fulfill it."**_ She glided closer — for this figure had the long, thick tresses and lyrical voice of a young woman, or an older girl. Though her face remained masked with the suns shimmering through rapidly drawing thunderclouds behind her, a long ivory gown billowed in the wind, studded and embroidered with flowers of every color, but never so bright as to overwhelm the white. Behind her sat a city of silver, its towers glinting with magnificent verdigris and gold. It looked so familiar — _Central City? _

"Is that the Grey Gale?" Cain asked quietly, almost too low to hear.

"I… I don't know… it doesn't seem like her—"

Green light arced out of the Emerald, striking DG in the arm.

"Eeyah!" she jumped, breaking her hold on Cain.

"'_**Only one and one alone shall hold the Emerald and take the throne,' they spoke to me so long ago. The double eclipse has passed, and still the Emerald is unclaimed. What say you to this failure?"**_

"Claim? But Azkadellia was chosen to take the throne!"

"_**The Emerald did not choose her."**_

"What?"

Instead of answering, the figure vanished in a rising wind, and as she watched, the shining city on a hill began to tarnish and rot, crumbling upon its foundations. The suns bled their silvery shade away to dull crimson, a pair of malevolent eyes ever-seeking the weakest for punishment. Tree lines thinned into blackened stumps and outstretched, knobby-knuckled fingers. Darkened skeletons sprawled over equally dead and crumbling grasses; the winds gusted freely, rife with dust and decay.

"_**You saw things as they were; now see the land as it will be, for your failure."**_

DG blanched from the scene, wrapping her arms around herself and fighting the tears which threatened to fall. "No! I won't let it happen!"

"_**Just as you would not let the Witch bring it a few steps closer to ruin, child?"**_

The words, cruel yet accurate, rent her heart in two. They were the very things the hidden yet ever-present part of her mind whispered before she closed her eyes for sleep each night in the Witch's own voice, gracelessly thanking her for her freedom, cackling and taunting her… DG felt like a small child again, helpless before this faceless being who ruthlessly pointed out her sins.

"What do I have to do to stop this?"

"_**Someone must claim the Emerald. The cycle must continue."**_

A cry began in the depths of the tomb, drawing them back into the present. It started deep below them, in the bowels of the earth, then rose to meet their feet, their hearts, and finally their ears, shaking the very foundations of the place even as the Emerald continued to hover in the center of it all. The ground heaved, knocking DG off her feet and into a hard marble railing. Cain reached for her, ducking and dropping to the ground just as the doors to the Grey Gale's crypt blew open, crashing against unyielding marble with a sound to rival thunder. The winds began then, howling and merciless as they tried to wrench them apart.

"Hold on!" he shouted above the din, wrapping one arm around her waist and the other around the base of the railing. She gasped, suddenly caught between him and the cold marble, breath sucked away by the gusts more quickly than she could regain it. The edges of her vision darkened, but she gritted her teeth and latched onto Cain all the more tightly, burying her face in his chest.

_Crack._ Her eyes flew open — she didn't even know she'd closed them — at the sound, or did she even hear it at all?

But Cain let out a rather virulent curse he normally wouldn't let fly in her presence, proving that she hadn't gone completely crazy — but their world suddenly had. With sparks of green radiating from the Emerald in one direction, a growing golden light raging furiously in another, and a hurricane whirling between the two with rapidly growing force, the Princess resorted to the only weapon she had against this mess.

_Focus, Deeg… have to focus. _

* * *

Glinda help him, but he held on to her for dear life, knowing that if he let go for even an instant, she'd most certainly blow away with the wind. His arms hurt, and he'd felt more than heard the cracking of the marble railing beneath his elbow — the stone looked so old, he didn't know how long it would really hold up in this magical tug-of-war.

_Not gonna be beaten by a rock… _he glared up at the damned Emerald where it sat at the center of the atrium, just in time to see a loose statuette hurtling end-over-end at them.

_Down!_ Whether he'd said it or simply thought it, he didn't know, but reacted with the last of his reflexes. His elbow and biceps began to burn as he dropped his shoulder several inches to duck, drawing her with him and out of harm's way. The fabric of his jacket pulled taut and felt close to tearing, and his hat… well, who knew where it'd flown off to once the squall started.

"Focus… focus…"

Cain glanced down at the girl huddled in his arms, chanting that single word over and over. "Deeg?"

But she kept right on chanting, trying to force… something to happen, but he felt and saw nothing.

Except her fear. It radiated from her as clearly as the light from the Emerald, paralyzing her confidence until it crumbled in the wake of the storm.

"DG, come on. You can do this."

"No… no… I can't…" her fingers dug into his shoulders, not doing anything to help his grip on the marble.

"Just a little shield or somethin'. Child's play for you." He struggled to keep calm, pressing his forehead to hers as he didn't dare to loosen his arms from their death grip. "Deeg, look at me."

"I can't, Cain! There's too much —_ look out_!"

Something large collided with his back, and Cain saw a different kind of lightning flash in his head. Had he not been sitting, he definitely would not have stayed on two feet after that. Sharp pain blossomed in places he'd forgotten about over the annuals as a Tin Man, when he'd grown used to taking sucker punches and cheap shots from street brawlers.

"_Cain!"_ Her cry, nearly lost to the gales, sent a visible shock through his system which threatened to send him back through annuals of memory. A dark, cramped space like this one, forced to watch loved ones in danger.

_No, Wyatt. Not now. You can't afford it! _

"Ahhh… stop carryin' on, Princess… you've got to focus… and not on me!"

"But—"

"Shh…" he looked right in her eyes then, nose to nose so he didn't have to yell, so he could try and make a small haven of safety, an eye in the storm. He'd never dared let himself do something like this before, but he couldn't let either of them fall into the darkness in their own minds in the face of this. They had to get out — they _would survive._ It was never a question of if… but how.

And she stared right back at him, her crystal blues wide and bright, the strange lights casting elfin shadows on her cheeks. She stared as though he might blink away from existence, simply a mirage she didn't dare hope to see in reality.

_I have to be seein' things… _He couldn't imagine her really looking at him that way, and why did he care?

He didn't even need Adora's suggestions for that one — and a more sensible part of him wondered where her voice had gone — and yet he couldn't even let the truth flicker into his conscious thought. _Not the time. Not now._

"Y'know," he managed, wincing as he took a deep breath, tried again with a shallow one, "When you had nightmares on the road… sometimes you'd sing this song… in your sleep. About princesses… It always seemed t'make you feel better… help you focus?"

She jerked, clearly stunned by the apparent non-sequitur, but as the thought sank in her lips began to move. He couldn't hear anything at first, and then he heard her soft alto lilt cut through the howling gusts.

"_Two little princesses dancing in a row_

_Spinning fast and freely on their little toes_

_Where the Light will take them, no one ever knows…_

_Two little princesses dancing in a row…"_

In this room filled with screeching hell and winds of bone-crushing stone, the sound of her voice wove a ribbon of sanity around them. Leaning closer to better hear it, he started to mouth the words along with her, not even noticing when an aura of gold surrounded the girl's slight form.

"_Two little princesses dancing in a row…"_

Several stone tiles flew loose, collided in midair, sprayed a coarse dust over them. But still DG sang, the small sound increasing into a stronger, surer cadence, and still Cain's gaze remained solidly locked onto hers.

"_Spinning fast and freely_

_On their little toes…"_

Dimly, he realized that the din had begun to die, leaving a ringing in his ears broken only by her song. His voice had risen to join hers in the little rhyme, offering a gentle harmony.

"…_Where the light will take them, no one ever knows_

_Two little princesses dancing in a row…"_

"Cain…" DG started to say, realization finally sinking in. She struggled to look over his shoulder and between the carvings of the railing, marveling that now only the faintest breeze caressed their faces in the newly silent tomb.

He let out a whistle, then a pained chuckle. "Damn. Worked like a charm."

"How did you—"

He sighed with the biggest smirk beginning to crawl across his face, even as he internally wrestled his impatience. "Kiddo? For once—"

"Shhh!" she hissed, smacking him in the chest without warning. He grunted, relief souring until he heard it too — very softly, nearly inaudible, already fading away.

"_Two little princesses dancing in a row_

_Spinning fast and freely on their little toes_

_Where the Light will take them_

_There's only one way to know_

_Two little princesses dancing in a row_

_"Two little darlings in a realm of fey_

_Passing down a golden road where they would play_

_Seek they now the fountain _

_The stories always say_

_The oldest Witch would grant the wishes that they pray…"_

DG gasped, and Cain — with effort — turned towards the still-open doors to Dorothy's crypt, where a golden-lined silhouette waved, ethereal and indistinct. He could just make out a pair of braids on either side of her face.

"_Your fate and theirs are connected to the Emerald. Beware the dark. The Witch's power has not completely left the realm."_

"Wait! I don't understand what I have to do!" she struggled to her feet, and Cain let her up, leaning back and welcoming the marble railing's deep chill against the throbbing of his back. He should probably stand and bow or something in the Grey Gale's presence, but after the inexplicable maelstrom (both physical and not) he'd just experienced, he just couldn't muster the willpower to do more than stare.

"_The Emerald must make its choice. You will be tested." _As she spoke, the Emerald shot back across the room towards the still-open doors, dancing in the air around its original owner in an odd recognition. The semblance of a smile, though invisible, graced the phantom's features as a more severe curve of the cheek, and she raised her right hand to meet it, releasing a glow of magic to surround the stone.

"_It shall go with you, daughter, but in a form less conspicuous to the curious. Should you wish it to return to its true shape, simply tap the stone three times and murmur the true name of the realm."_

Cain blinked, and then the Emerald had vanished, leaving behind a woman's silver ring with a pretty green stone set into it. For a moment, it shone with the power he knew all too well, but then it too disappeared, perfectly camouflaged in plain sight.

_Pretty smart,_ he appraised, fighting a new set of nerves as the Princess approached her phantom ancestress to take the ring and place it on her right forefinger.

_Thank you._ Startled, Cain jerked, knocking the back of his head against the marble with a hiss of frustration. The words had echoed at a shorter distance from where the Grey Gale stood — floated? — near DG. In fact, for some reason, he could no longer hear the words passing between his Princess and the ghost, and goosebumps began to rise along his forearms.

_Do not be startled. I only wish to warn you._

_Warn me of what?_

He felt an undercurrent of laughter, girlish despite her formal words. _So direct and forward, like she is. You remind me of an old friend from long ago, Wyatt Cain. One upon whom I could always rely… as my many times granddaughter can of you. I approve._

Carefully saying nothing in response, he raised a patient eyebrow as he waited for the warning she had mentioned, drawing a second round of mirth. He couldn't help but feel unnerved by the conversation going on in his mind, and at the same time let his own amusement at the irony wash over him.

_You must not leave her side, Wyatt Cain. The Light in the O.Z. has been weakened by the poisons of the Witch's power. Like a dark stain, the evidence will take a very long time to fade, and never completely. The Emerald, too, feels the effects._

_So what does she have to do?_

_Follow the rhyme south, to where a lavender-eyed child failed to find what she sought. Or perhaps she had forgotten. My power here, though linked to the Stone, is fading. I will soon be in Her care once more._

_Her?_ Did she mean the other ghost — the one who had spoken through the Emerald? Or something — someone — else?

_Go, Wyatt Cain. Do not leave her side._

* * *

DG felt the walls of silence between her and Cain return as soon as the Grey Gale's image had evaporated into darkness, the doors of her tomb closing with finality behind her. She risked a glance over her shoulder, seeing him sitting hunched over with his head down, blond crown dulled with silvery dust in the muted light.

_Where's his hat?_ Putting aside the Grey Gale's final words for now, she turned round and round, finally spotting the fedora wedged between a wall and a fallen statuette of some long-gone cousin or ancestor. Heaving the fallen bust aside, she punched and pulled it back into relative shape. As she brushed off the grime and walked back to the Tin Man, he raised his head and gave her the most exhausted look she'd seen on him yet, blue eyes slightly glazed with pain.

"Still with us, Mr. Cain?" she offered him a small smile, handing him the hat. He grunted, shoving it onto his head and started to haul himself to his feet.

"Whoa!" Inwardly cursing the man's incalculable stubbornness, she ducked under his shoulder, wrapping an arm around his waist to balance him. "Don't you dare think I forgot about the statue that jumped up and bit you earlier — let me help." Her eyes found the figure in question not a few feet away; a half-shattered but still beautifully androgynous face and broken wings sent a chill down her spine.

_It would figure that a stone angel would try to knock _him_ out. _Glad that the Tin Man, as a denizen of this world, wouldn't recognize her wariness of the thing, she swallowed it down and focused on getting them out of there. For once, the man didn't complain as they made their way to the doors, which opened easily with a shove from her foot.

Light from the outside world spilled in, blanketing everything in a wash of gold. Both blinked, wincing but welcoming the natural brightness as opposed to a magical one.

"Wanna take bets as to whether Glitch or Red Hat have killed each other yet?" she joked, pleased to see him crack a smile.

"Ten platinums on Glitch."

"The rest of your coffee on Red Hat."

"Are you really goin' to bring that up again?"

"Are you trying to get out of a bet?"

He growled. "You're on."

* * *

_**Author's Notes:**_ Though a bit more DG/Cain-centric than intended, this chapter ends the first major part of the storyline. I'm sure you all have guesses as to who the first silhouette might be! But I'm not telling! Well... not yet, at least.

A great big thank you to Lcsaf for working through this chapter with me – I wrote a good 1500 words that ended up being completely scrapped and thrown rather unceremoniously into the "not now, maybe another fic" pile. This chapter could not have been written without you! =)

Another thank you to my Soldier Boy for returning as my beta! He helped me fix a couple of things with Princess rhyme's second verse.

_Next chapter: _Have you placed your bets? Mine's on Glitch, but we all know what scrappy fighters the Munchkins can be. We also return to the Northern Island for a time to learn more about the plague and Azkadellia's condition.


End file.
